


The Assassin

by dairesfanficrefuge_archivist



Category: Highlander - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-02-28
Updated: 2001-02-28
Packaged: 2018-12-18 05:39:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11867859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dairesfanficrefuge_archivist/pseuds/dairesfanficrefuge_archivist
Summary: Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived atDaire's Fanfic Refuge. Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onDaire's Fanfic Refuge's collection profile.





	The Assassin

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Daire's Fanfic Refuge](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Daire%27s_Fanfic_Refuge). Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Daire's Fanfic Refuge's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/dairesfanficrefuge/profile).

The Assassin by Charlotte D. p. 1/2

| 

_The Assassin_

By Charlotte D. 

This is a sequel to _Ghost Stories_ ... you may want to read that first for background on Shelby Donovan. Otherwise, this can pretty much stand on its own. 

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Paris, France 

Amanda poured herself a cup of coffee, her attention focused on the papers she was reading. Her partnership with Bert Myers had proven to be a profitable one, she thought with a smile, glancing around the nightclub she co-owned with her friend. Indeed, this had been a wise decision. Although she detested the paperwork that came with the job. 

The presence of another Immortal filled the room, alerting her that one of her own was nearby. She didn't fret, though. She knew who was paying her a visit this morning. Duncan MacLeod. 

She turned back to her paperwork, quietly sipping her coffee. 

'Keeping your back turned on one of your own is a good way to lose your head.' 

Startled by the voice she wasn't expecting, she turned and smiled, 'Nick! Good morning.' 

'Morning?' Nick Wolfe disagreed. 'It's nearly afternoon, Amanda.' 

'I'm a late riser,' she teased, watching as he claimed the seat beside her. She had known he was to be an Immortal since their first encounter. 

But he had not taken the news well after his first death. He had balked at the notion of who he was, and what it would take to survive The Game. It had been over two years since Nick Wolfe had became an Immortal, and he still refused to learn how to use a sword. Despite her recurring pleas to him, he wanted no part of their world. He still lived his life as if nothing had happened. As if he had never died and been brought back. He worked for his friend Myers and let life go on as usual. 

It amazed her that he had kept his head for this long. 'You know,' she announced, tossing down her pen. 'How about I put this on hold, and let you buy me lunch. And then maybe a few lessons with a sword--' 

He stood then, cutting her off. 

'Nick,' Amanda pleaded. 'You have to learn someday.' 

'I can't,' he insisted. 'Bert is expecting me. He needs me to relieve one of his guards.' 

'You have yet to tell me about this big assignment Myers has you on. What's it about?' she questioned. 'I know he is providing top-notch security for some American big shot, but you've been very hush-hush about it.' 

Wolfe paused, cautiously stating, 'He's a U.S. Congressman. He and his lovely wife are vacationing in Paris for the next two weeks.' 

'And they need Myers providing around the clock security for that?' she asked skeptically. 'Come on. Give.' 

He released a sigh then, a smile touching his lips. If he had learned anything about Amanda, it was that she was like a dog with a bone when she latched onto something. He finally relented, stating, 'The Congressman has made more than a few enemies back home. There has been a call by certain meddling people in the States. They are pressuring their President to get involved with the war in Chechnya. They want the President to choose sides and involve their Army. Our Congressman Lowe is fighting them tooth and nail on this one. He doesn't want to get the U.S. Armed Forces involved. And for that, he has been receiving death threats. That is why he and his wife are here.' 

'And that is why you and Myers are providing security for them,' she finished. 

'Speaking of Bert, he is expecting me,' Nick reminded. 

Amanda started to speak, but the presence of another Immortal cut her off. The door swung open then, and Duncan MacLeod entered, smiling. 

'Amanda,' he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. He extended his hand to Wolfe, stating, 'It's good to see you again, Nick.' 

'You, too, Mac,' he nodded politely, shaking the extended hand. Amanda had introduced him to her friend shortly after he became an Immortal. 'I have to run.' 

'Be careful!' Amanda called after him, prompting a chuckle from MacLeod. 'What are you laughing about?' 

'You sound like a nagging wife,' he pointed out, sitting down on a barstool beside her. 

'He has a dangerous job,' she felt obliged to remind. 

'And he's an Immortal,' he countered. 'It's hardly like the average rules apply to him.' 

'Speaking of which,' she hedged, tossing him a winning smile. 'That is part of the reason I called you down here. Mac, I want you to talk to Nick for me again. See if you can convince him to take a few fencing lessons from you, shall we say.' 

'Amanda,' he shook his head. 'We've already been down this road. I can't force him to do something he doesn't want.' 

She sighed, quietly cursing the stubborn pride of men. She had first introduced Nick to Mac when he refused to learn The Game from her. She had hoped that MacLeod could convince him to learn to defend himself. But Mac had made no more progress with Nick than she had been able to. 

'He won't last forever with a sword and no idea as how to defend himself. If he won't learn from me, and he won't let you teach him The Game then--' 

'Then you have to let him be and respect his decisions,' Duncan put in. 'It is his life, Amanda. Immortal or not. He has the right to chose.' 

'Even if his choice is wrong?' 

'Wrong by who's standards? Yours or his?' he insisted. 

She fell silent then, and he watched her from lowered lashes. Amanda had been both friend and lover to him over the years. But since she had met Nick Wolfe, their relationship had been purely platonic. He realized that her feelings went deep for the other Immortal, but he was just starting to realize how deeply they ran. 

Resting a hand over hers, he admitted, 'The hardest part about loving someone is watching them make mistakes, isn't it?' 

'Just because you are moping after some long lost love doesn't mean that I am,' she insisted. 'You're absolutely sad these days, MacLeod. Sitting around and waiting for this mortal woman to come back to town. What was her name again? Shelly?' 

'Methos talks too much,' he grumbled, the image of Shelby Donovan filling his mind. 

'It was Joe, actually,' she corrected. 'So, Sherry left you and--' 

'Shelby,' he corrected. 'And she didn't 'leave me'.' 

'Oh, right. She just went off to compare notes with Cassandra,' she pressed. Receiving no response from him, she asked, 'Why don't you just call her?' 

'Because she will come back if and when she is ready,' he insisted. When Shelby had said good-bye and left him all those months ago, he had been so certain that she would be back in a matter of weeks. But with each passing day, his certainty slipped more and more. 

'Why don't I call Cassandra and--' 

'She hasn't been with Cassandra in over six months,' he sighed. 

'Then where is she?' Amanda demanded. 

'She sent me a postcard from Florida a few weeks ago,' he admitted. 'There is a world out there, and she is just starting to explore it.' 

'And she should be doing that with you,' the woman insisted. 

'What do you want me to do?' he incredulously demanded. 'Club her over the head and drag her back to my cave? She has been through a difficult time, Amanda. Horton and his renegade Watcher friends used her to try and kill me. Shelby has. . .a gift.' 

'Yeah, I know,' she replied. 'Joe told me about this 'psychic power' you think she has.' 

'I don't think, I know,' he decreed. 'She went to Cassandra to learn how to use it. It was her decision, and I have to respect it.' 

'Just like I have to respect Nick's decisions, too, right?' she sighed, rubbing her weary eyes. 'You're right, Mac. Loving someone isn't easy. And I think it just gets harder.' 

* * *

**Chapter 2**

'Nick should be here soon,' Bert Myers assured his guard, glancing around the expensive, four-star hotel room. Of all his assignments over the years, guarding Congressman Lowe had to be the worst one of them. 

'I'm in no rush, boss,' Kent assured him. 'I can stay until Nick gets here.' 

'Yeah, but I don't know if I can,' Myers confided, glancing towards the closed bedroom where Lowe and his wife had been fighting half the morning. 'They don't need security. They need therapy.' 

Kent chuckled his agreement, adding, 'I'm starting to think we should be protecting them from one another, not some unknown outsider.' 

A knock fell on the door then, and Myers let his hand fall to the pistol strapped to his side. Moving to the door, he called, 'Wolfe?' 

'No. It's room service,' a voice replied. 'I have the lunch that was ordered.' 

Suspicious, Myers moved back to the bedroom door and knocked, calling, 'Congressman Lowe? Did you order something from room service?' 

'Yes,' the man called back. 'I meant to tell you. Sorry.' 

Bert shook his head in irritation, nodding to Kent to open the door. Kent did as instructed. A waiter backed into the room slowly, pulling a cart with him. The man whirled around suddenly, firing two shots into Kent's chest. The silencer muffled the gunshots, but Kent's grunt of surprise drew Myers's attention. 

He produced his pistol as the hitman turned, a black stocking mask covering his face. Myers aimed the weapon at his heart, pulling the trigger. The force of the bullets slammed the henchman around, and he slowly crumpled to the floor. 

'We have a would-be attempt on the life of the Congressman,' he barked into his hand radio. He quickly checked for a pulse on the assassin. Finding none, he moved to Kent's side and tried to put pressure on his chest wounds. 'We need an ambulance and more security. . .Hello? Dammit, where are my agents,' he whispered in disbelief. 

'Myers!' Congressman Lowe shouted, scurrying from his room. 

Bert glanced up from his dying friend, shouting, 'Get back in your room!' 

'Oh, God,' Lowe whispered in horror, his eyes focusing on something past Myers. 

Bert glanced up to see the hitman rising to his feet. His mind couldn't conceive what was happening. He had shot this man straight though the heart. He had killed him. There had been no pulse. 

Myers reached for his gun, but the hitman raised his weapon first, firing twice. 

Congressman Lowe watched in horror as his last protector fell to the floor in a puddle of blood. The assassin turned to him then, and he whirled around in a rush, screaming, 'Get out of here! Re--' 

His warning died in his throat as the man grabbed him from behind, twisting and breaking his neck. He fell to the floor in a heap, and the assassin knelt, carefully placing a red silk handkerchief over the face of the dead man. 

He heard the loud gasp and glanced up to see the woman. She stood in the doorway of the bedroom, her face pale and her eyes wide with the horror of the gruesome, bloody site that greeted her. 

'And you must be Mrs. Lowe,' he stated the obvious, standing and taking a step towards her. 

She backed up in fear and that was when he stilled. He turned slowly back to face the door, his hand dipping into his jacket and producing a sword. 

'Myers?!' Nick Wolfe crashed through the door, nearly tripping over the body of Kent. He looked down at the bloody bodies of his friends before letting his eyes return to the hooded Immortal, rage and anger burning in their depths. 

'Who are you?' he hissed. 

The man bowed, stating, 'They call me The Assassin. They have for centuries. And you would be?' 

'Nick Wolfe.' 

'You want my head, Nick Wolfe?' he taunted in a voice laden with a Scottish accent. 'Then let's play.' 

The man swung the sword at Nick's head, and he narrowly sidestepped it. He had no sword. No means to protect himself from one of his own. 

The sound of sirens wailing in the distance took the Immortal by surprise. He laughed, decreeing, 'Another time.' 

He sprinted towards the bedroom, passing the woman who stood frozen against the wall. Wolfe gave chase, extending his hand and trying to catch hold of the man as he propelled himself towards the window. 

He grasped hold of The Assassin's sword arm as his body shattered the glass. Nick held on as the man fell, slamming his arm against the broken glass. The Immortal screamed in pain as the glass cut into his arm, nearly severing it. His fingers went numb and his hold on the sword loosened. 

The weight of the fall was too much, however, and Nick felt himself losing his hold on the man. With a cry of disgust, he felt the Immortal literally slip from his fingers and fall. He leaned out of the window, watching as the Immortal's body fell from the impossible height and landed in the back alley. 

The sword lay at Nick's feet, its jeweled hilt glittering wickedly. Black rage filled his heart and he snatched the weapon up and raced from the room. He was nearly to the door when the police crashed through. 

* * *

**Chapter 3**

'You're a terrible businesswoman,' Duncan insisted, scanning the papers Amanda had left on the bar. 

'Give me those,' she snapped, snatching them from his hands. 'You are in a foul mood. You have been since Sharon left.' 

'Shelby,' he corrected for the umpteenth time. 

'You need a date,' Amanda continued. 

'I'm free tonight,' he mocked. 'Let me know what time to pick you up. Unless you are too busy nagging Wolfe.' 

She shot him a hard look, but her comeback was cut off as the television over the bar suddenly switched from its usual programming to a newswoman. A scene of ambulances, police cars and news crews surrounding a hotel played in the distance as she spoke, 'We have just received confirmation that an assassination attempt was made this afternoon on a United States Congressman. Although we do not know the condition of the Congressman at the time, we have received a confirmed report that at least four people are dead at the scene and another critically injured. He is being taken to a local hospital. One man has been arrested--' 

'Oh, God,' Amanda groaned as the cameras zoomed in on a man begin lead out by the police. 'Nick.' 

Duncan watched as she turned and raced through the door. 'Wait! Amanda!' 

* * *

**Chapter 4**

'Nick Wolfe could not have done this,' Amanda insisted to the French police detective. 'He _works_ for Bert Myers. Furthermore--' 

'Let the lady proceed,' a voice insisted, and both Duncan and Amanda glanced up to see the familiar face of Nicolae Breslaw. 

The Interpol agent eyed the both of them with a hint of an amused smile. He absently chewed the end of a toothpick, finally stating, 'Well, well. Amanda _and_ MacLeod? What are the odds?' 

'You know him?' Amanda whispered to her friend. 

'We met a few years back,' MacLeod stated. 'You?' 

'Same thing,' she nodded. Stepping to him, she sighed, 'Ah, Nicolae! I thought you had left Interpol.' 

'Old habits die hard,' he admitted. 'Before you lay into me like you did my young friend there, let me assure you that I know Nicholas Wolfe is not the man who assassinated the Congressman. Would you like to step into my office?' 

Both nodded, falling into step behind him. They stepped into his small quarters, and he closed the door soundly behind them. 

'Nick,' Amanda sighed in relief. He stood from his chair, accepting her concerned embrace. 

'How's Myers?' he asked, dreading the answer. 

'He made it to the hospital alive,' she answered. 'He's in surgery. That's all I could get over the phone. And I had to pretend to be his wife just to get that much.' 

'Tell me, Mr. MacLeod,' Breslaw drawled. 'Are you related to Mr. Wolfe? I have to wonder because I haven't heard a tale spun so beautifully since, well, since you lied to me about Ingrid Henning.' 

Duncan stiffened at the reminder. He had lied because it was an Immortal matter. His eyes slide to Wolfe's, and he saw the answer there. This, too, was about their own kind. 

'You see, Mr. Wolfe wants me to believe that this man killed two of their agents on the inside of the hotel before slipping into the room and killing Mr. Kent and wounding Mr. Myers. Then, our hitman murdered Congressman Lowe and was about to do the same to Mrs. Lowe when he arrived. He struggled with the man and then the man jumped from the window of the penthouse hotel room. But we did not find his body on the ground.' 

'Maybe he was wearing a parachute,' Wolfe snapped. 

'That was not in your original statement,' the inspector reminded. 'He would be seriously wounded either way. The amount of blood we found at the window would suggest as much.' 

'That's it,' Nick sighed in disgust, standing from the chair. 'I have been more than cooperative. I have answered all your questions a thousand times. I have given you my written statement. Now either charge me with something, or I am going to the hospital to check on my friend.' 

'You never saw his face?' Breslaw continued. 

'No. He was wearing a black mask.' 

'That would fit, I suppose,' Breslaw sighed. 'That is his trademark. The mask. And this.' 

Duncan felt his blood run cold as the inspector tossed a clear plastic bag onto the desk, a blood red kerchief inside it. He didn't have to look close enough to know that it was made of pure silk and had the letter 'A' embroidered on it. 

'The Assassin,' he spoke softly. 

'And what do you know of him, MacLeod?' the suspicious Breslaw snapped. 

'H-He was a legend in Scotland,' he smoothly covered. 'Hundreds of years ago.' 

'Well this is the present version of him,' the agent insisted. 'He's a copycat of the original one. He kills people by breaking their necks. Then he leaves a red silk kerchief with the letter 'A' on it lying across their face. I can only assume that the 'A' stands for 'Assassin'. Or at least that is the Scottish legend, isn't it?' 

'Yes,' he nodded. 

'We have been tracking this man for decades,' Breslaw cut off as the door opened and a young agent handed him a note. He scanned it briefly before stating, 'Well, it would appear that the United States does not trust us to handle this matter on our own. They are sending a few of their own FBI agents and a special consultant to see that we do not screw this one up. In that case, you are free to leave Mr. Wolfe. Just do not stray too far from the city.' 

'I'm not going anywhere,' he assured. 'Can I pick up my weapon on the way out?' 

'It is at the front desk,' Breslaw nodded. 'If you will excuse me, I must talk with Congressman Lowe's wife.' 

Duncan waited until the man had left the room before turning to Wolfe, stating, 'The Assassin is one of us, isn't he?' 

'I take it you and he have met in the past,' Wolfe pointed out. 

'That we have,' Duncan assured. 

'Inspector Breslaw, I hate to interrupt you but--' the voice of the newcomer trailed off in shock. She stopped at the entrance of the door, whispering in disbelief, 'Duncan?' 

'Renee,' he stated with an equal amount of shock. 'What are you doing here?' 

Tears filled the eyes of Renee Delaney as she confided, 'He killed Paul. That monster killed Paul.' 

Realization dawned then. Congressman Lowe was Paul Lowe, husband of Renee Delaney. 'I am sorry,' he whispered remorsefully. 

'Just hold me,' she pleaded, stepping into his arms. 'Hold me, Duncan.' 

* * *

**Chapter 5**

Renee Delaney Lowe accepted the cup of coffee with a nod of thanks, smiling as MacLeod sat down beside her on his couch. 

'Thank you for convincing Agent Breslaw that I didn't need around the clock guarding,' she stated. 'And thank you for letting me stay here tonight.' 

'You're welcome. Besides, you shouldn't be alone,' he insisted. 

She nodded, her expression numb. 'I just can't believe this is happening. One minute Paul and I were in Paris, and the next his murderer is staring me in the eye. I didn't even get a look at his face.' 

'He's a skilled hitman,' he tried to offer what solace he could. 'There was nothing you could do.' 

'Do you think he will come after me?' Renee asked. 

'It's not his style,' Duncan assured. 'He hits and runs. Besides, you are safe with me. Safer than you know.' 

He spoke the last words softly. Today had just reconfirmed what he already knew. The Assassin was an Immortal. Renee would he safer with him than any protection Interpol or the Paris police could provide. The Assassin could not get close without him sensing the man. 

Renee touched his hand, assuring, 'I know I am safe with you. I. . .I just can't figure out how this happened. Bert Myers was suppose to have his people stationed all over the hotel.' 

'He did,' Duncan assured. 

'And one man killed three of them without at least being wounded once or someone alerting the other agents to his presence? According to ballistics, Myers shot his gun twice. I heard it myself. So did the people on the floor below. They were the ones who called the police. But they couldn't find the bullets from Myers' gun anywhere in the hotel room. And why did this man have a sword and why attack Wolfe with it? Something doesn't add up here.' 

'Renee,' he insisted, taking her hand gently in his own. 'You've lost your husband. Stop thinking like an agent and let yourself grieve.' 

Tears filled her eyes as she admitted, 'Paul and I had a fight this morning. We've been having problems for awhile. I quit my job when he was elected to Congress. But I wasn't happy, and I told him that. I told him I wanted to go back to work. He hated the idea, and we had a huge fight over it. He. . .he asked me if I thought our marriage had been a mistake. I said yes. And ten minutes later, he was dead.' 

He pulled her into his arms then, holding her close as he assured, 'It was an argument. I'm sure he knows that you didn't mean it.' 

'I wish I could believe that,' she whispered, raising her eyes to his face. She was alone and cold inside. All she wanted was to feel something. She cupped his cheek and pulled his face down to hers. 

Duncan pulled away before she could kiss him, gently pushing her back. 'Don't, Renee,' he insisted. 'You are grieving. This is the last thing you need.' 

'I'm sorry,' she started to apologize. 

'Don't be,' he cut her off. 'I've been where you are right now. You feel dead inside. You want to force yourself to feel again. And you will. In time.' 

She smiled in the face of his wisdom and understanding, gratefully replying, 'Thank you.' 

'Get some sleep,' he ordered. 'You can have my bed. I'll take the couch.' 

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Duncan MacLeod rubbed the aching muscles of his neck. He needed a new couch. That blasted thing didn't provide a decent nap, much less an entire night's rest. 

He searched through the contents of his refrigerator. Renee would be out of the shower soon, and he would cook them a decent breakfast. A light knock sounded on his door, and he froze for a moment. 

It wasn't an Immortal or he would have felt it by now. He reached for his sword anyway. He moved to the door and swung it open, stopping dead in his tracks. 

'Shelby,' he breathed in disbelief. 

The beautiful young woman smiled nervously at him, glancing to his sword as she pointed out, 'Not for me, I hope.' 

'No,' he assured, tucking the weapon behind his back. 'Please, come in.' 

She nodded, stepping into the barge. Duncan couldn't take his eyes off her. He lost all sense of time and logic as he simply stared. It was all he could do not to grab her and crush her in his arms. He had missed her. God, how he had missed her. 

She wasn't as beautiful as he had remembered. She was more. Glorious blonde locks fell around a face of sheer perfection. Bright blue eyes smiled back at him. 

As blue as the sky in that dream he had about her. Not long after she had left him, he had been haunted by the bittersweet dream of him and her. Alone on a beach together. Just them and the warm sun and the sand. And no tan lines. 

She flushed crimson then, and he realized he was staring. He forced himself to leave her side long enough to lay his sword aside. 

Shelby nervously chewed her lower lip, watching him from lowered lashes. She took a step back and nearly tripped over a wood bench. Hastily straightening it, she apologized, 'Sorry about the beach. Bench. I mean, I'm sorry I nearly knocked over your beach--bench.' 

Duncan pressed a hand to his mouth to hide his own embarrassed smile. It wasn't easy knowing a psychic who could literally read his mind sometimes. 

'I should move that. It's in the way,' he stated, hating the awkward small talk. 'I was restoring it for a friend.' 

'You look good,' she butted in, breaking the ice that was between them until that moment. 'I wasn't sure if I should come here or not. I thought of calling, but. . .' 

She let her guard slip then, and he saw the uncertainties and insecurity in her eyes. She wasn't sure of him, was what she had meant. She wasn't sure how he felt after all these months. 

He was surprised to realize that he was the one reading her mind this time. But that was the connection between them. It ran stronger than anything he had ever felt before. He took a step in her direction-- 

'I tried to save you some hot water, Duncan!' Renee called, exiting the shower. She was wearing one of his old shirts, her hair wrapped in a towel. She stopped short at the sight of the other woman, apologizing, 'I'm sorry. I didn't know you had company.' 

'Shelby,' he started to explain when he saw the hurt in her eyes. 

She held her hand up to ward him off, insisting, 'No. I'm the one who's sorry. I guess I should have called first, huh?' 

Renee's cell phone rang then, and she quietly stepped to her bag to retrieve it. 

'Wait,' he pleaded, catching Shelby's arm as she turned to leave. 'Let me explain.' 

'I have to be somewhere,' she pulled away from him, walking from the barge. 

'Shelby!' he called to her retreating back. He wanted to go after her, but he knew he couldn't leave Renee alone. 'Damn it!' 

From behind him, Renee quietly hung up the phone, stating, 'That was Inspector Breslaw. The FBI agents from the States are here. They want to talk to me at police headquarters.' 

'I'll take you,' he insisted. 

'Duncan,' she made herself ask, 'when you pushed me away last night, it wasn't about my feelings for Paul, was it? It was about your feelings for her.' 

He refused to look her in the eye, not wanting to cause any more pain than necessary. He had already hurt one woman he cared about this morning. 'Get dressed,' he ordered instead. 

He let his gaze drift back to where Shelby Donovan had just stood only moments before. As abruptly as she had walked out of his life nine months ago, she had just walked back in. Now all he had to do was hold on to her this time. 

* * *

**Chapter 7**

'I'm not sure if I can do this,' Renee Delaney Lowe hesitantly admitted as a policewoman led them down the hall of the station. 

'I will stay with you if you'd like,' Duncan offered, resting a hand on the small of her back as they moved toward the interrogation room. He was about to reassure her again when he felt the stirring in his soul that was the presence of one of his own. 

He nervously glanced around the room, fear for Renee settling in the pit of his stomach. Would The Assassin dare to come after her in public? 

'Well, well, it's a small world, isn't it, Duncan MacLeod?' a voice drawled. 

He whirled around in surprise to see FBI agent Matthew McCormick leaning in the doorway of the interrogation room. 

'McCormick,' Renee smiled in surprise. 

The Immortal stepped forward, grasping her hands as he stated, 'It's good to see you again, Agent, I mean, Mrs. Lowe. But I hate that it is under such terms.' 

She nodded her thanks at his compassion, stating, 'I am glad they sent you.' 

'You two know one another,' Duncan stated, rather than asked. 

'We worked together in the past,' Renee answered. 'I take it that the two of you have met, as well?' 

'Yes,' McCormick replied, refusing to indulge the details. 'Why don't you go inside and make yourself comfortable, Renee. There is coffee already in there. I will be in shortly to talk to you.' 

She nodded, reluctantly leaving the two men and entering the room. McCormick waited until she had shut the door behind her before stating, 'You can leave now, MacLeod. I will take it from here.' 

'I don't think you understand what you are dealing with,' he started, lowering his voice. 'This man is--' 

'One of us,' Matthew finished. 'Yes. I know. I have been tracking this man for a hundred and fifty years, Duncan. He killed a very close friend of mine once.' 

'Then why are you here in Paris?' the Scotsman stated. 'We both know that he never stays after a hit. He kills and disappears.' 

'I know that,' McCormick admitted in disgust. 'Ever since I have been after him, I arrive a day too late. A few hours behind him. I have given up on actually tracking him down. Instead, I am going to find out who hired him, and then maybe he will find me.' 

'And what about Renee?' he asked. 

'I will put her under FBI protection. You know she will be safe with me. I can feel him if he comes for her. Or I can use her to smoke him out. . .' he let his voice trail off meaningfully. 

'No,' Duncan shook his head in disbelief at what he was hearing. 'You don't actually think that she hired a hitman to kill her own husband!' 

'She wouldn't be the first,' Matthew pointed out. 

'I thought this was something about a political issue in the States. The war in Chechnya, if I remember what Amanda said correctly.' 

'That is not what one of my people thinks,' McCormick confided. 'The murder of Congressman Lowe had nothing to do with whether or not we intervened in the war. It was something else. Now, I need Mrs. Lowe alone in the room with my friend to find out for sure if she was behind it.' 

'You'll need a mind reader for that,' MacLeod pointed out. 

'Funny you should mention that,' Matthew stated. 'Because I have one. The lovely Miss--' 

'No need for introductions, Matthew,' Shelby Donovan stated as she walked up behind MacLeod. 'We've already met.' 

'Shelby,' Duncan breathed in surprise and relief. He had worried that she might leave Paris again before he could reach her. But if she was here, then that meant she was. . .working for McCormick? 

Matthew chuckled at his surprised gape, pointing out, 'Well, this is just a regular reunion weekend for you, isn't it, MacLeod. Uh, Shelby, Mrs. Lowe is waiting for us. Mac was kind enough to bring her by. Shall we?' 

Shelby stayed rooted in place, hurt and anger sparking in her blue eyes. 'How kind of you to drop off your girlfriend to be questioned about her husband's death. You do move fast, don't you, Mac?' 

He caught her arm as she tried to brush past him, gently but sternly turning her back to face him. He took her stubborn chin in his hand and tilted her face up to look him in the eye. 'We have to talk about this.' 

'Are you coming or not, Shelby?' McCormick called from the doorway. 

'I'm coming,' she assured. 

'And so am I,' MacLeod added. Lowering his voice, he insisted, 'If I have to camp out on your back doorstep, we will talk about this.' 

'I have a murder to solve,' she tried to walk past him, but he refused to let go of her arm. 

Raising his other hand, he let his finger trace down the side of her cheek as he softly decreed, 'You look beautiful, by the way. And I've missed you. I wanted to tell you that earlier.' 

She looked into his warm, smiling eyes and had to pull away before she found herself giving in. Damn him and the hold he had on her. He could melt her with a single smile. 

'Your girlfriend is waiting,' she reminded, refusing to give into his innocent smile and warm eyes. 

Duncan watched her stroll into the room, murmuring under his breath, 'Aye, I missed you, too, Duncan.' 

Renee stood in surprise at the sight of the young woman that had been at MacLeod's barge earlier. 'Hello, again,' she nodded politely. 

'So you two have met?' Matthew asked. 

'We weren't properly introduced,' Shelby stated, extending her hand. 'Shelby Donovan. I am a special consultant with the Bureau. My condolences on your loss, Mrs. Lowe.' 

'Thank you,' she nodded, detecting the note of hostility in the other woman. She supposed she shouldn't blame her. Duncan MacLeod was a prize worth fighting to keep. 

Matthew pulled back a seat across from Renee, seating Shelby before claiming his own chair. MacLeod stepped around the table and sat down beside Renee. His steady gaze clung to Shelby, but she refused to meet his eyes. 

'I wished we had more to tell you, Mrs. Lowe,' Matthew began. 'Interpol and the Paris authorities have had people stationed at all airports and bus stops. They've had roadblocks put up, but so far nothing.' 

'So his murderer just gets away?' she demanded. 

'We will do everything we can to find him. It won't be easy because neither you nor this Nick Wolfe actually saw his face. According to Wolfe, he spoke with a Scottish accent so that is a little more than we knew before. I hope to speak with Mr. Nick Wolfe later today and get a full statement from him. I've also read your statement from yesterday. Right now, my hope is to track down whoever hired this man.' 

'Paul was receiving threats because of his refusal to press for intervention in the war overseas,' Renee reminded. 

'But it is possible that could be a cover,' Shelby spoke for the first time. 'We think someone maybe trying to blame the assassination elsewhere to take the suspicion off themselves.' 

'Are you suggesting I hired someone to kill my husband?' the other woman demanded, clearly reading the undertones in her words. 

'Of course she is not, are you, Shelby?' Duncan intervened. 

She ignored him, stating instead, 'Myers' agent said that you and your husband fought often.' 

'We had a few problems, yes,' Renee admitted. 

'Are you involved with another man, Mrs. Lowe?' she asked pointedly. 

'Shelby!' Duncan scolded. 

'Why don't you just ask me?' Renee demanded in fury. 'Just ask me if I am sleeping with MacLeod.' 

'Renee!' he exclaimed. 

'Are you?' 

'No!' Duncan answered. 

Renee's eyes filled with pain as she stated, 'I loved my husband. I would have never hurt him. And, no, I am not sleeping with Duncan. That would be hard when all he seems to care about is some little blonde from the States.' 

Shelby looked away from her obvious grief, suddenly feeling lower than shame itself. 

'Let's take a break,' Matthew intervened. 'Renee, would you like some fresh air?' 

'Yes,' she answered, swallowing back tears as she stood and hurried from the room. 

Duncan stood as well, anger blazing in his eyes as he stated, 'That was low, Shelby.' 

'It's my job to get to the truth,' she reminded. 

'No, you weren't doing your job on that one. You were just being a hard ass,' he snapped, pushing his chair back with a loud clang and following Renee from the room. 

She ran a hand through her blonde hair, groaning in frustration. 'I blew that, didn't I?' 

'Yes. But it was interesting to watch,' Matthew admitted. 'I've never seen you lose your cool before. You like MacLeod.' 

'And you like Kira from Internal Affairs,' she countered. 

'I pity Mac,' he sighed. 'What man wants a woman knows what he is thinking before he does. Speaking of which, your honest and unbiased opinion, if you can manage that.' 

'She is not the one,' Shelby assured. 'It was worth checking her out, but I think my initial assumption was correct.' 

'I'll be back in Washington by tonight,' McCormick stood then and began gathering his papers. 'I'll call ahead and get your suspect taken into custody. With any luck, he will crack and reveal all he knows about The Assassin. I still don't believe this, though. His own people killed him over a tobacco bill.' 

'Lowe was the leader in pushing the bill through. Our Senator Jefferson is taking kickbacks from the tobacco company to stop the bill. He had to do something to stop Paul Lowe or he was in hot water with his 'friends',' she sighed sadly. 'The war in Chechnya just made an excellent scapegoat to blame the assassination on.' 

'Oh, yet another one you have solved for me, fair lady,' Matthew took her hand, bowing gallantly over it. 'I'm just glad you use your powers for good, not evil.' 

She laughed, standing as she asked, 'Are you going to tell Renee now or later?' 

'Now. I am also going to leave several agents behind to follow up leads on The Assassin and handle the investigation here. I will see what Mrs. Lowe wants to do, but I imagine she will come back to Washington with me,' he stated. 'If I can get her a seat on the flight, that is.' 

'Give her mine,' Shelby suggested. 'I think I am going to stay awhile.' 

'Fine. I will list you as one of my people who are staying behind to work on the case.' He smiled knowingly then, pointing out, 'I didn't think you volunteered for this because you wanted my company. Of course, you probably shouldn't have ticked him off so bad.' 

'Wish me luck in getting forgiven,' she requested. 

'He's a fool if he doesn't,' Matthew proclaimed. 'And if he does turn out to be a fool, you know I am still single.' 

She laughed then, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, 'Not for long, Matthew. Kira is dying for you to ask her out. She thinks your Southern accent is sexy.' 

'Really?' he asked, visibly pleased. 'You picked up on that?' 

'I didn't have to. She told me over lunch one day. Come on,' she hedged, pushing him towards the door. 'I'd like a few more words with our Mrs. Lowe before you take her back to the States with you.' 

* * *

**Chapter 8**

Nick Wolfe sat quietly in the chair beside the bed of his friend. Bert Myers had made it through surgery alive, but he was still in critical condition. He only had a few minutes to visit his friend in the ICU ward. 

He touched Myers' hand, and the man's eyes fluttered slightly. 'Hey,' Wolfe smiled. 'How you feeling? Sorry. That's a stupid question. You look better than the last time I saw you.' 

'The. . .Congressman. . .?' Myers forced the words from his raw throat. 

'Don't worry about that right now,' Wolfe tried to assure him. 'You just concentrate on getting better. I'm a taking care of things in your absence.' 

'He's dead,' Bert realized. 'I shot that man, Nick. I shot him twice, but he didn't die.' 

'Maybe he was wearing a vest or something,' Wolfe lied. He trusted Myers with his life, but it was better for Bert if he didn't know what Nick was. 

The other man shook his head, insisting, 'He was bleeding. There was no pulse--' 

A nurse stepped into the private ICU room then, stating, 'Visiting time is over, Mr. Wolfe.' 

He nodded, standing to his feet and assuring, 'I'll be back later.' 

He moved to the door, glancing back to see the nurse adjusting his friend's IV. This other Immortal had killed three agents. Men that were very good friends of his. And he had wounded Myers. Bert could still die, he thought with fury. 

The Assassin would pay, he quietly vowed. He would pay for all the pain he had caused. 

* * *

**Chapter 9**

Duncan was washing down the deck of his barge when Nick Wolfe arrived that afternoon. He had left Renee at the police station several hours ago. She had insisted that she wanted to be alone for the rest of her talk with Matthew McCormick. He had not liked the idea, but had accepted her decision. Besides, McCormick was an Immortal and an FBI agent. He could keep Renee safer than Duncan could here. 

He had gone back to confront Shelby with her actions, but had soon regretted the decision. The sight of her kissing McCormick still stuck in his mind. Was this how she had felt after finding Renee coming out of his shower? Or was she actually involved with Matthew? 

Pushing those thoughts aside, he jumped onto the ground as Wolfe closed in. 'Nick,' he nodded his greeting. 'What brings you by?' 

The other man paused for a moment, but then requested, 'I want you to teach me The Game. Teach me how to fight.' 

'So you can go after The Assassin?' he questioned. 'Revenge is not a reason to learn The Game, Nick.' 

'That bastard killed my friends,' he began. 

'And it won't be the last time you lose someone you care for,' Duncan interrupted. 'You're Immortal. Death is a part of our lives. That is the first lesson you need to learn.' 

'So what are you saying?' he snapped. 'I just need to accept that mortals die and get on with my long and violent life? Someone has to make that man pay.' 

'Someone will,' the Scotsman assured. 'I will.' 

'He crossed you in the past, didn't he,' Wolfe stated, rather than asked. 'Exactly how do you plan on finding him? From what I hear, he is pretty elusive.' 

'I called Joe Dawson about thirty minutes ago,' he explained. 'He was pretty surprised to learn The Assassin is an Immortal, but he promised me that he would try to track this man down. I can't teach you The Game right now, Nick. Go to Amanda if you really want to learn.' 

'I don't want to involve Amanda in this. Why can't you teach me?' 

Duncan ran a hand through his short black hair, finally admitting, 'Because I am going after The Assassin. And I don't know if I can win. I don't want to take on a new student just to orphan him. When I find him, and if I win, I will teach you The Game then. If you still want to learn.' 

* * *

**Chapter 10**

Amanda stepped through the back entrance of the club, sensing the presence of another Immortal as the door closed behind her. 

'Nick!' she called. 'How is Myers doing? Nick?' 

She paused, waiting for an answer. When she received none, she stepped toward her office. The site of papers scattered across the floor and overturned furniture stopped her. 

Her hand flew to her sword but before she could reach it she felt herself being flung backwards. A sword pressed against her throat, and she raised her eyes to see her assailant. He wore a black mask over his face, hiding his features, but she sensed that this was no ordinary thief. 

'Where is it?' the Scottish accented voice demanded. 

'You should really reconsider your fashion accessories--' she started, but he pressed the sword deeper into her throat, drawing blood. 

'I am not fooling with you,' he threatened. 'Now where is it?' 

'I don't know what you mean,' she insisted. 

'Then where is Wolfe?' 

The presence of another Immortal filled the room and he clamped a hand over her mouth to keep her from calling out. 

'Amanda!' the voice of Duncan MacLeod drifted through the club. 'I know you're here.' 

The masked man seemed to stiffen at the sound of the voice. A hint of amusement filled his eyes as he chuckled, 'Is that Duncan MacLeod? Good old Mac. I'd heard he was in the city. Now, if you want to keep your head firmly attached to your lovely neck, I suggest you tell Wolfe that I want him to return what belongs to me. If he does, I just might kill him quickly, rather than slowly. Will you tell him that?' 

She bit deeply into his hand then. He gasped in pain and she took the opportunity to duck away from him. He swung his sword in fury, and she narrowly dodged it. The blade slammed into a lamp behind her, knocking it to the ground with a loud crash. 

'Amanda!' Nick Wolfe called in worry. 

The Assassin ducked from the room then, sprinting to the back door. Duncan and Nick nearly knocked one another down as they raced to her defense. 

'Oh, God, are you hurt, baby?' Wolfe whispered as he reached her first, crushing her in his arms. 

'He went out the back,' she answered the question in MacLeod's eyes. He darted towards the door and she turned her attention back to Nick. Cupping his cheek, she assured, 'I'm fine.' 

He kissed her on impulse, surprising them both. She sighed against his lips, returning the embrace. 

'He got away!' MacLeod snapped, slamming the alley door behind him. 

They jumped apart like guilty teens, separating as Duncan walked back into the ransacked office. 'It was him, wasn't it?' 

'I think so,' she nodded. 

MacLeod glanced around the disarrayed room, 'What did he want?' When she made no reply, he pressed, 'Amanda, this man doesn't stay after a hit. Unless there is some reason for him to stick around. He was obviously looking for something. Now what was it?' 

'I don't know,' she admitted, looking at Wolfe. 'But he seems to think that Nick has it.' 

'Aside from my head, I don't know what he could--' Nick began, but broke off. 'Unless. . .' 

He walked across the small office then, pulling back a painting to reveal a safe. Myers had told him the combination in confidence, and he hastily opened the safe. He reached inside and pulled out the sword that he had taken from The Assassin. 

Duncan gasped in disbelief, reaching for the extended weapon. He had not seen it in over two-hundred and fifty years. 'The Sword of Virtue,' he whispered in awe. 

* * *

**Chapter 11**

'So this is it?' Amanda stated, pacing the main floor of the club. Wolfe and MacLeod sat at a nearby table, each sipping a cold beer. Nick had explained to them how he had taken the sword from the other Immortal and how he had managed to convince the authorities that it was his. 'He tried to take my head over a stupid sword! Like he doesn't have others.' 

'It is the Sword of Virtue,' Duncan corrected, holding the ancient claymore up to his approving eye. 'I know it's what he is after. He's a Scotsman. There was a time that any Highlander warrior worth his salt would have killed to possess this.' 

'Why?' Nick asked. 'What's so important about this sword?' 

'You'd have to know the legend,' he explained, admiring way light sparkled off the priceless jewels in the sword's handle. 'According to Scottish legend, this sword makes a man invincible.' 

'Immortal, you mean,' Wolfe corrected. 

'No, invincible,' he assured. 'The tale has been around even before my birth. I grew up hearing about it. About two hundred years before I was born, there was a tale of a young Highland warrior who was hunting one day. He came across his enemies robbing an old woman. He intervened and stopped them. He was badly wounded, and lay near death. Then suddenly the old woman turned into a beautiful young lass. He realized that she was a fairy then. She nursed him back to health. The day he left her, she blessed his sword and vowed that no ordinary weapon could defeat him in battle. He took the weapon into battle with him, and true to her word, it never failed him. He became a great warrior and leader, but the power corrupted him. He became evil, using the weapon to hurt and destroy, rather than defend. 

'The fairy saw what he had become and the pain her spell had caused, and she was furious. She went to his greatest enemy. There she saw that his enemy was a good man with a pure heart. She found in him seven great virtues: faith, hope, courage, loyalty, compassion, honor, and love. She created a new sword for him, with greater power than the one she had blessed for the other warrior. She encrusted seven stones in the hilt to represent his goodness. Then she gave it to him and told him it would never fail him as long as his heart stayed pure. If he let himself be corrupted, then the sword would break when a man with a purer heart took him to battle. 

'The warrior took the Sword of Virtue and made war with his enemy. His sword broke the one of his nemesis. He won the battle and brought peace to his clan and the Highlands for all the years of his life. He never faltered once, and at his death, the fairy was so saddened that she took the sword from his funeral pyre. She cast it into the mountains of the Highlands. But she told of a forthcoming warrior who would find it someday. A man with a heart as pure as the first owner of the sword. A man who would lead his people to peace and prosperity. But she left the same warning for this second warrior. As long as his heart stayed pure, the sword would never disappoint him. For hundreds of years, warriors looked for it. But none found it. Until. . .' 

'Until what?' Amanda pressed. 

'Until the day the English army attacked a farmer and his family. The family's little boy managed to escape the massacre, and they chased him into the mountains. He hid in a cave and there he found the sword. He used it to kill the English knights. Then he made his way to the clan that was headed by his father's uncle. Upon seeing he had the Sword of Virtue, the clan welcomed him with open arms. He became a warrior, swift and strong. No one could strike him down in battle. No one could harm him.' 

'Because he had the sword?' Nick skeptically asked. 

'No,' Duncan stated. 'Because he was Immortal.' 

* * *

**Chapter 12**

**The Highlands of Scotland, 1740**

'I do not know, MacLeod,' Warren Cochrane sighed aloud, warily eyeing the English knights who had filled Lochel Castle. 'I think yer young friend is making a terrible mistake.' 

'Since when is an attempt at peace a mistake?' Duncan countered. 

'Ye don't believe that any more than I do,' Warren snapped, hatred filling his eyes as he watched the English soldiers. They returned his angry stare. They were as against this madness as he was. 'The Scots and the English will never exist peacefully. A war is coming. We both know that.' 

'Perhaps not,' MacLeod stated, although he didn't feel as confident as he sounded. Tensions between Scotland and England were at an all time high. And the rumors that Prince Charles Stuart would be returning from exile to rally the Scots against their hated enemy was only serving to cause more strife. 

Some in England wanted the war. They desired the opportunity to crush the Highland Clans once and for all. But others wanted peace. And that was what had brought the opposing sides together: a wedding. A Duke in the English House of Lords had pledged his daughter to a Scottish warlord in marriage, hoping to forge some bridge of truce between the Scots and the English. All eyes seemed to be settled on Lochel Castle. 

Lord John DePaul, Duke of Evington and his band of knights had escorted his daughter Julie to the Highlands weeks ago. Once there, they had delivered her to her betrothed, Cameron MacAllister, Laird of Clan MacAllister. And the man who held the Sword of Virtue. 

Warriors and friends from all neighboring clans had turned out to witness the nuptials. Cameron was a man revered and held in high esteem amongst his own people. He was a warrior, pure and strong. But he also had a desire for peace. 

Many had come to see this legendary Scotsman for themselves and to offer their support to him. Others had come in disbelief, needing to see this marriage to believe it true. While some had traveled the distance in the hope that it was a trap. They wanted the English lord and his band of knights to make a simple error so they could strike. 

Duncan had came for a different reason, though. He was to provide security for the young bride. Rumblings amongst the English were that her life was being threatened. The Assassin. A ruthless, cold-hearted mercenary had been hired to see to it that the young woman never made her wedding. 

The bridegroom had sent for him. He was here under the pretense that he was to stand beside his friend at the wedding. His friend. . .and his student. He had met the young Immortal Cameron MacAllister nearly seven years ago. 

'And what will ye do?' Cochrane interrupted his thoughts. 'When this plan for peace fails--and we both know it will fail--what will ye do? Will ye take up a sword and fight for Scotland?' 

'Of course, I will,' Duncan snapped. 'I am a Scotsman, Cochrane. Never ye forget that. I will fight beside Prince Charlie for as long as it takes to free Scotland. But I am also willing to hear words of peace. If we do not have to go to war, then I will gladly accept that.' 

'It will come to war,' Warren predicted. 'One marriage will not change that.' 

The presence of another Immortal slashed through them, and both men turned to see Cameron MacAllister walking in their direction. He was a striking young man. He was near the same height as MacLeod, his arms and shoulders laden with thick muscles. He had a mane of curly, long blonde hair. A short beard covered his face, hiding the fact that he had not aged a day since his first death ten years ago. 

Cameron MacAllister had been raised a farmer in the Lowlands, his adoptive parents barely scraping by. The English had ravaged his home when he was only thirteen. He had slipped away to swim in a nearby creek, and had returned to find his family slaughtered. Cameron had escaped to the Highlands then, finding the Sword of Virtue in his haste. He had sought refuge with his adoptive father's uncle. Robert MacAllister had seen his own sons die before reaching their first birthday. He had nearly given up hope of having an heir, until he had met his nephew's son. A mere boy who held the legendary sword like a warrior. He had taken to Cameron, raising him to be Laird of the Clan. 

He had taken the role of Clan Chieftain ten years ago. He and his uncle had gone on a hunt that day, and he had made the fateful decision to leave the Sword of Virtue behind. They had been attacked by their enemy and his sword had failed him. Both he and his uncle had died that day. Only Cameron had awoken an Immortal. He had not understood what had happened to him at the time. It wouldn't be until three years later, when he had first encountered Duncan MacLeod, that he had known. 

MacLeod had explained to him what he was and had taught him The Game. It had not taken much training, however. Cameron was excellent with a sword. He had even taught MacLeod a thing or two. In that time, the two men had forged a strong friendship. 

'Cam,' Duncan greeted him warmly. 'How are you feeling?' 

'I am fine,' he assured. 

'For a man who is about to tie himself to a piece of English fluff,' Cochrane wryly added. 

MacAllister ignored the comment, stating instead, 'My men are itching for a fight with the Brits. I hope they behave themselves for another few days.' 

Duncan chuckled, adding, 'I am eager for your wedding, too, my friend. If for no other reason than to get this Lord DePaul and his knights back to England. Still. . .'Tis a huge sacrifice you make in the name of peace, Cam.' 

MacAllister let his eyes wander across the courtyard. Julie DePaul and her father were taking a walk, closely guarded by his soldiers. 'It is not such a great sacrifice,' he disagreed, taking in the beauty of the young girl. 'She is easy on the eye, isn't she?' 

'Aye, she's lovely,' Duncan agreed, watching the mortal girl. She couldn't be older than seventeen. She had fair skin, complimented by her dark hair and warm brown eyes. 

'Have the two of ye forgotten what happened to Angus MacSwain?' Cochrane put in, sighing in disgust. 'He wed a lovely little French lass and she poisoned him on their wedding night!' 

'Then I'll be sure no to drink anything she offers me tomorrow eve,' Cameron assured, taking MacLeod's arm and leading him away from the other Immortal for a private talk. 

'Warren hates everything English,' Duncan reminded. 'Dinna let him discourage ye. I think what ye are doing is very admirable. After what the English did to yer family, few would blame ye if ye harbored ill feelings to them.' 

'I cannot blame Julie for that. She is no responsible,' he insisted. 'Have ye heard any more rumors of this assassin the Brits have hired?' 

'What makes ye so sure 'tis the English who hired him?' Duncan laughed. 

'Because a Scotsman would have the courage to come to me if he disagrees with my decisions. He would fight me man to man,' he stated. 'No, a henchman is a coward's way. The way of the English. There are many in her country that do not want this. They fear this marriage might bring about talks of peace. They would rather see the Scots destroyed first.' 

'I have kept my eyes open, as I promised ye,' Duncan assured. 'But I have seen nothing to suggest her life is in danger. Although the talk I have heard is that her brothers greatly disapprove of this. They are trying to convince her father to end the engagement.' 

'I dinna fear that. Duncan,' he stated hesitantly, 'I think I could love this girl. She is good and kind. Since her arrival, she has snuck away from her father and his guards to meet me. She has a sweet spirit.' 

MacLeod smiled his approval, but still felt the need to remind, 'You must be careful. Warren might not be so wrong to remind ye of the French lass who murdered her Scot husband.' 

'She likes me, too,' he stated confidently. 'In fact, we are handfast now. We have been since last week.' 

MacLeod started at the revelation. 'Cameron, this could cause great harm if--' 

'Only if her father objects,' MacAllister interrupted. 'Tomorrow is just a formality. She is my wife now. We pledged ourselves to one another. And I have already taken her to my bed. In the eyes of Scotland, that makes her my wife.' 

'Aye, and in the eyes of England, that makes her yer whore.' 

Rage filled the big man and he hissed, 'Do not speak of her in such a manner.' 

'I am not trying to offend ye. Just tell ye the truth. Still,' he admitted, 'her father cannot back out of the arrangement now. By Scottish law she became yer handfast wife when ye pledged yerselves and ye took her innocence. By English standards, she is compromised. The wedding must proceed.' 

'It will,' he assured. 'If this 'Assassin' can be kept at bay. I do not worry for me, but for her. I am Immortal. He cannot harm me.' 

'Speaking of which, have ye considered what being an Immortal will mean to ye? Ye have the Clan and now Julie to care for.' 

'Eventually I will have to tell her,' he sighed. 'Or leave her behind when others start to notice I do not age.' 

MacLeod rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Cameron had died at age twenty-six. The beard had helped to hide his face for the last several years. But in another decade, even that wouldn't keep the Clan from noting that he was not aging. He would have to leave them then. He would have to move on and start a life elsewhere. 

Julie DePaul's dark eyes slide across the open courtyard, and she smiled shyly at the man she would wed in a proper ceremony on the morrow. She slipped away unnoticed while her father talked with his knights. 

Cameron held his hand out to her and she took it. 'Hello, my sweet Julie,' he whispered, placing a soft kiss on her lips. 

'Cameron,' she scolded, blushing at the public affection. 

Duncan smiled at the young couple. Indeed, Julie was a sweet girl. Although he worried about his friend's confession. Having already taken the virginity of this girl would either ensure their marriage or bring about the wrath of her father. He prayed the morrow would arrive and he could see these two wed. And have her English family on their way out of the Highlands. 

'Julie!' John DePaul shouted his disapproval upon realizing she was no longer under the watchful eye of his knights. 

He stormed across the courtyard, demanded, 'Why did you leave my side?! Get back--' 

'She is with me,' Cameron decreed, sliding a possessive arm around her waist and holding her to his side. 'This is where she belongs.' 

DePaul nodded, reminding, 'But there are rumors, Laird MacAllister, of her life being in danger. My knights swear that this man--The Assassin, as they call him--has been hired to stop this wedding.' 

'The only people within the walls of this castle are the ones ye brought and my Clansmen. None would betray me. As for ye. . .' he let his words trail off, knowing they insulted his guest. 

'My people can be trusted,' DePaul assured. 'But I have heard talk as well. The Highlanders revere you as some sort of god because you hold this sword. Maybe they fear challenging you.' 

'Highlanders are no cowards,' Duncan spoke up. 'And I will thank ye not to suggest so again.' 

'My apologies, Mr. MacLeod. But I still wish my daughter kept out of harm's way until the morrow. After the wedding, she will be safe.' 

'I agree,' Cameron assured. 'Come, Julie. I will see ye to yer quarters myself.' 

'It isn't proper!' her irate father snapped. 

'Oh, but I insist,' Cameron stated. 

Duncan bit back a smile as they turned and walked away. He couldn't help but notice the blush that stained her cheeks. He imagined Cameron would not leave her side for quite some time. 

'There is no one she will be safer with,' he tried to assure DePaul. 

'They say this Assassin is like the wind,' the Englishman insisted. 'They say he cannot be stopped.' 

'Every man can be stopped,' Warren Cochrane decreed, rejoining his friend. 'Besides, no Highlander would go against his own in this matter. The MacAllister has chosen to wed. Our people are not the type to send an assassin. It is cowardly. If anyone objects, they will take the matter to Cameron directly. They will challenge him, not attack his innocent bride.' 

'I just wish for the morrow,' DePaul sighed in worry. 'I wish to attend my daughter's wedding. Not her funeral.' 

MacLeod felt a cold chill at his words, glancing back to see Cameron and Julie entering the castle. Maybe he would keep a closer eye on both of them. At least until tomorrow was over. 

* * *

**Chapter 13**

Sated and pleased, Cameron MacAllister stretched out in the narrow bed, unmindful of his nudity. 

'Are you sure this is proper?' Julie asked, snuggled close to his side. 

'Ye are my wife in my heart,' he insisted, kissing her hair. 'There is no shame in enjoying yer husband's bed.' 

'It's growing late,' she stated, glancing out the window to see the darkness settling in the sky. 'Should we dress for dinner?' 

'Nay. I have sent orders that ye will eat supper in yer room tonight.' 

'You are worried about the rumors of The Assassin, aren't you?' she questioned, shuddering as she said the name. 

He held her closer, caressing her bare shoulder as he assured, 'Ye are safe with me.' 

'And what of you? Are you safe?' 

'More than ye know,' he sighed. 'There are things about me that ye will learn in time. Just trust that I am safe from this man.' 

'I still worry for you,' Julie insisted. 'If The Assassin harms you, your clan will blame the English and they will surely go to war then. They say he has killed so many. I've heard that he kills people by breaking their necks. And he carries with him a silk kerchief with an 'A' embroidered on it, and he places it over the face of his victims once they are dead. He wants everyone to know it was he who--' 

'Julie,' he interrupted, propping on his elbow to stare down into her wide brown eyes. 'Ye are safe with me. I willna let anyone hurt ye. We will speak our vows before God and all men soon. Our union will forge a bridge between the English and the Scots. We will help to bring peace to our people. I will stay the whole night. I will keep guard over ye, lass. And I will wed ye in yer English ceremony on the morrow.' 

She smiled at him, letting her hand slide boldly up his chest and around his neck. He let her pull his head down for their lips to meet. He kissed her at his own leisure, allowing their passion to build. 

There would be no more thoughts of The Assassin tonight. 

* * *

**Chapter 14**

Duncan MacLeod glanced around the open courtyard, taking in all the people who had turned out for the wedding. At least five of the Highland clans were represented this day. He eyed all of the faces, wondering which one of them, if any, was sent here to kill Julie DePaul. 

He sensed the presence of another Immortal and turned to see Cameron MacAllister step to the platform where he was to await his bride. He was a striking figure in his full Scottish garb, a proud chieftain of his clan. He bore the colors of the MacAllister's, a huge, silver pin shaped like a lion's head was at his shoulder, holding his garments in place and proclaiming him their Laird. The Sword of Virtue dangled at his side, the sun catching and sparking off the jewel encrusted hilt. 

It was believed amongst the Highlands that whoever held it was invincible. The man who held that magnificent weapon could not be defeated. And at that moment, Duncan found himself believing the legend. Cameron looked like a warrior no one could bring down. 

'Are ye ready for this?' Duncan MacLeod curiously questioned, stepping to his friend's side. 

'Aye,' he assured with a nod, glancing back toward the entrance of his castle. 'Julie should be coming out by now.' 

'She is a woman, Cameron. They are never on time.' 

'And I suppose I did keep her up late,' he stated with a hint of a smug smile. 'I left her with her maids a few hours ago to get dressed.' 

Duncan started to reply, but was distracted by the sight of one of Lady DePaul's maids stepping to the shadow of the door, trying desperately to get the attention of Julie's father. 

Concern touched the face of Cameron and he hastily stepped from the platform, his long legs carrying him to the girl. Duncan watched as his friend listened to her before turning and racing back into the castle. 

He followed, as did half the wedding guests. It took him several moments to shuffle through all the bodies and break free of the crowd. He raced through the halls of the castle, taking the stairs two at a time. Duncan reached the top of the steps, turning the corridor to hear Cameron's voice echoing off the stone halls. 

'Julie!' he screamed, slamming his shoulder against the solid oak door. 'Julie!' 

'Let me help,' Duncan insisted, joining his friend. He slammed his shoulder against the door, feeling the heavy wood give under their added weights. 

MacAllister threw himself into the door with an almost inhuman scream, shattering the frame of the door and forcing his way inside. He entered first, stopping so abrupt in his tracks that Duncan nearly ran him over. 

MacLeod stepped around him, his stomach twisting at the sight that greeted him. Julie DePaul lay on her bed, her body eerily still. She was dressed in her wedding gown, still gripping her bouquet of flowers in one hand. A red kerchief lay across her face, the letter 'A' stared mockingly at them. 

Cameron moved slowly to her side. He pulled the kerchief from her face. Her skin was pale with death, her lips already turning blue. 

'Julie?' MacAllister pleaded, hesitantly sitting down beside her on the bed. He pulled her limp body into his arms, cupping her face. 'Send for the doctor, Duncan. She's still warm. Send for him now and he can--' 

'I'm sorry,' he remorsefully whispered. 'She is gone.' 

'No!' he screamed in anguish. 'Open your eyes, Julie. Julie?' 

'Where is my daughter?!' Lord John DePaul demanded as he burst into the room. He stood horrified for a moment before rushing to the bed and pushing MacAllister back. 'Get away from her! This is your fault! Why weren't you protecting her?' 

'I did,' Cameron whispered on a raw voice. 'I placed guards at every door. . .' 

'Sire, no one came in,' a bulky Scotsman insisted. 'We stood guard at this door all morning just like ye ordered. No one came or went.' 

'It is too high to scale the walls,' Duncan snapped. 'They had to use the door.' 

'The passage,' MacAllister realized in horror, pushing past his friends and moving to a tall armoire against the wall. He jerked it back roughly to reveal a well-lit tunnel through the walls. Two Highland warriors lay dead only feet into the passage, their colors proclaiming them as loyal men of the Clan MacAllister. 

'You knew this was here!' DePaul screamed in outrage. 'You put her in this room knowing about this passage!' 

'I left my clansmen to guard it,' he spoke mostly to Duncan. 'I chose only the ones I trusted most. They are the only ones I told. No one else knew about this tunnel.' 

'We will figure this out, Cameron,' Duncan insisted. 'We will find this man.' 

Both men turned as Warren Cochrane stepped into the room, his presence alerting them that another Immortal was close. 

'I've already found him,' Cameron hissed, producing the sword and charging Cochrane. 

The Immortal narrowly sidestepped the claymore that was aimed at his head. He produced his own weapon, raising the blade to defend the assault. Their fight carried them into the ancient hall. 

'Cameron!' Duncan called, racing into the hall and grabbing the Scotsman by the shoulders. He slammed his friend against the wall, holding his sword arm still. 

'Ye cannot interfere,' MacAllister reminded him of the rules. 

'We are in the presence of mortals,' MacLeod pointed out. 'Why have ye taken ill with Warren?' 

MacAllister's eyes took on a lethal glow as he decreed. 'Because he's one of us.' 

'Aye, ye have known that since I brought him here,' Duncan tried to rationalize. 

Surprise touched MacAllister's face for a moment, but then he realization dawned on him and he decreed, 'Ye do not know? Ye didn't feel him?' 

'What are ye talking about?' Duncan demanded. 

'I'm talking about The Assassin. I felt him in Julie's room. He's an Immortal, MacLeod,' he revealed. 'He's one of us.' 

* * *

**Chapter 15**

Duncan poured a glass of the ale, forcing MacAllister to take it. The man sat alone in the corner of his study, silent rage vibrating from his body. 

'I do not believe this,' an irate Warren Cochrane stated from across the room. They were alone now, and he spoke openly. 'If you felt an Immortal, it was probably MacLeod.' 

'No! Duncan was behind me. I felt this man the moment I came to Julie's door. The Assassin is one of us. And we all know that there is only three of our kind here,' Cameron accused. 'I ken it was neither me nor MacLeod. And that only leaves you, Cochrane. Ye were against this wedding from the start. Ye made that more than plain!' 

'If I wanted this marriage stopped, I would have come for you, boy,' Warren stated. 'I would have taken yer head, not the life of some young lass.' 

'Then try to take my head now,' he challenged. 

'Enough!' Duncan shouted, stepping in between the two men. He turned to face MacAllister, reminding, 'Warren is my friend. I trust him. Do ye honestly think I would have brought him here had I not? Do ye think that of me, Cam?' 

'No,' he assured. 'But maybe ye dinna know him like ye think ye do.' 

'I know him well enough. And I know ye well enough to know that ye are grieving and hurting right now. But I can assure ye that Warren did not hurt Julie,' he tried to reason. 'What we do know is that The Assassin is one of us. That would explain how he managed to kill both guards without being seriously wounded himself.' 

'But it doesna explain how he knew the passage was even there,' Cameron sighed. 'No one but me and my most trusted warriors knew of it. And Julie. I told her, of course. I thought she would be safer in that room. It offered her a means of escape if she fell under attack.' 

'If The Assassin is an Immortal, he might date back centuries,' Duncan stated. 'He might have even been present when they built the bloody thing. Or Julie might have innocently told a maid who told someone else. The possibilities are endless.' 

'Where does the passage lead?' Warren asked. 

'Julie's room originally belonged to the first Laird's eldest son. He had the secret passage constructed in the event that he or his son ever needed to escape. It leads from this study, to my bedchamber, to the room where Julie slept, and to a secret exit from the castle,' he answered. 'My uncle told me of it shortly before his death. When Julie found out it lead to my study, she would slip away and meet me here. Or I would use it at night to come to her.' 

His voice broke, and MacLeod rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 'I am sorry, my friend. We will find this man. I vow that to ye.' 

A heavy knock fell on the door then. At Cameron's command to enter, one of his warriors stepped into the room and spoke, 'The English are leaving. They packed in a rush and say they want to be free of the Highlands. Sire, DePaul is taking the body of his daughter with him.' 

'Like hell he is,' Cameron hissed, standing abruptly and moving to the door. 

Duncan and Warren followed him closely. He stormed through the castle, stopping at the top of the steps and watching the English with disgust. 

'Cameron, ye are grieving, dinna do anything foolish,' Duncan began, but soon realized his pleas were falling on deaf ears. 

The body of Julie DePaul had been covered and prepared for travel. A makeshift stretcher had been constructed and she had been placed on it. 

'Ye are free to leave,' he called loudly. 'Run back to yer murdering bastard friends in England. . .but ye leave my wife!' 

'She is not your wife,' Julie's brother, Steven DePaul, shouted back. 'She will be taken home to London, where she never should have left.' 

'I say she was my wife! And I say she stays in Scotland to be buried by my hand.' 

'This is madness,' John DePaul insisted. 'You never wed her.' 

'Cameron, please,' Duncan hissed. 'Ye will start a war.' 

'It has already started,' he vowed, stepping down the steps and walking towards the English man. 

Several of the knights let their hands fall to their weapons. The small gesture was all it took. The warriors of Clan MacAllister fell into step behind their Laird, prepared to fight to the death at a single word from him. 

'She was my handfast wife,' he revealed. 

The news stunned DePaul into silence for a moment, but then his rage emerged. 'You took my daughter to your bed without the sanctity of marriage?! You made her your whore!' 

'I made her my wife!' he shouted back in anguish. 'And ye will leave her with her Clan.' 

'I am English. I do not recognize the practice of having a whore and calling her a wife because it suits you,' DePaul insisted. 

'I do not believe you, MacAllister,' Steven DePaul insisted. 'I think you lie. My sister would never have gone to your bed without a proper wedding. And I will take her home with me.' 

'Are ye calling The MacAllister a liar, boy?' a new voice demanded. 

Duncan groaned inwardly as Angus MacKail, Laird of Clan MacKail, stepped forward. 

'What say ye, MacAllister?' the Chieftain of Clan Campbell joined in. 'Do ye claim ye had a handfast marriage with the lass?' 

'On my honor as a Scotsman, she was my wife,' Cameron spoke loudly for all to hear. 

'Then 'tis settled,' a third man joined in. 'The MacAllister has sworn on his honor. The lass was his wife.' 

'Who do you people think you are?' DePaul shouted in out rage. 

'I am The MacKinnon,' the man continued. 'I lead the Clan MacKinnon, friend and neighbor of the Clan MacAllister. Cameron's word had been good in the Highlands for decades. And I am the man who says ye will not take his wife without a fight.' 

'She wed a Scotsman,' the Laird of Clan MacKail agreed. 'A handfast marriage is recognized amongst our people. Ye will not take her from her husband.' 

DePaul glanced around in disbelief. He wanted to fight. He ached for it. But he saw that same need in the eyes of MacAllister. Today he would have welcomed this man as his son-in-law. Instead, he branded him an enemy. He had wanted this to be a start towards peace. But now. . .now he would push war harder than ever. Not because his daughter had been murdered, but because this Scotsman had defiled her. He had taken her innocence and made her a whore. For that, he would extract his revenge. But it would not be today. The other clans were already rallying around Cameron. His knights were out-numbered at least ten to one. They would die if they fought now. 

'You know this is war,' he spoke the words to MacAllister. 

'It was yer English friends who hired her killer,' Cameron reminded. 'Oh, aye. This is war.' 

* * *

**Chapter 16**

Duncan MacLeod stood in the shadows of Lochel Castle, watching as Cameron berated a young servant girl for not having his supper on time. His friend had changed so much in the weeks following the murder of Julie DePaul. He no longer recognized the man. The loss of his love had made him bitter and callous. He led his people with an iron fist. He rallied the Scots to join together and fight England, with or without the return of Prince Charles. But mostly he searched night and day for the Immortal known only to them as The Assassin. 

His friend Warren Cochrane and the other clans had left shortly after Julie's funeral. Duncan had chosen to stay, though, in hopes of seeing his friend through this hard time. He was thankful he had decided to do that. He had looked out after Cameron's people while the other man had followed reports of The Assassin. 

The servant girl hurried off in tears, and MacAllister called, 'You can come out now, MacLeod.' 

He stepped into the light then, stating, 'Ye should not have been so hard on the lass. She cannot help yer meal being late. She did not know when ye were retuning. None of us do anymore. I take it this last venture was no more successful than the others.' 

'I did not find him, no,' he spat. 'But I will. The news from England is good, though. Our Lord DePaul is now pushing all out war with the Scots.' 

'Is that what Julie would have wanted?' he demanded. 'She was willing to give herself in marriage to a man she had never seen rather than have war between us and England. Do ye think she would want to know that the man she loved is now planning to do battle with her people? Her own family even.' 

'I think Julie would have wanted to live,' Cameron stated. 'I think she would have wanted the life I could have given her. I will find this bastard. I was so close, MacLeod. I was only days behind him in the Lowlands. He killed again, ye know. He killed the son of a Scottish warlord. Someone in the English government is determined to make war with us. Hiring a henchman to kill our people will only rally the Scots against them.' 

'Ye seem so certain that the English paid off The Assassin. There are others who would like to see Scotland destroyed by the English,' Duncan reminded. 

'I do not care who has hired him,' the man stated, rubbing his haggard face. 'All I care is that I find him. And take his head.' 

A messenger appeared at the door then. MacAllister nodded for the boy to come forward. He stepped to his Laird and held out what looked like a piece of cloth. Cameron seemed to pale before his eyes, his body going stiff as he reached for the item. 

Duncan stepped forward to see what was upsetting his friend so. It was a red kerchief with the letter 'A' embroidered on it. The calling card of The Assassin. 

'Where did ye get this, boy?' MacAllister demanded. 

'It was left at the gates, sire,' he nervously stated. Cameron dismissed the lad with a nod, unfolding the note attached. 

'What does he say?' Duncan asked. 

'He knows I've been tracking him. And he wants to meet me,' Cameron stated with a cold smile of satisfaction. 

'Where?' he pressed. 

The blonde warrior negatively shook his head as he stood, his hand falling to caress the hilt of his legendary claymore. He crushed the paper in his hand before tossing it into the fire. 'This is between he and I. Ye canna interfere. I have to go, Duncan. He's waiting for me.' 

'Cameron,' he called in concern. 'Ye have never faced another Immortal before.' 

The man paused, finally stating, 'Ye have been a good teacher, Duncan. And a good friend. If I do not come back. . .' 

'I will finish it,' he vowed. 

'Nay, do not,' he insisted. 'War is coming. Scotland will need all her brave warriors to fight the English. Defend the Highlands for me instead, if I do not return.' 

'I will,' he vowed. 'Upon my honor, I will. . .' 

* * *

**Chapter 17**

'So?' Wolfe pressed when MacLeod's tale trailed off. 'What happened?' 

'He never came back,' Duncan stated, sadness touching his voice. 'I knew he was dead then. He would have gone back to his Clan otherwise. I heard rumors a few months later. Tales that The Assassin was in France, and I knew who had won. Cameron would have never given up that sword,' he reached for the ancient weapon, fondly caressing the hilt. 'This meant everything to him. As he had predicted, war came. I defended my home, but we lost anyway. England and their 'Assassin' won.' 

'So The Assassin started the war in your homeland?' Nick questioned. 'You must want him as badly as I do.' 

'He didn't start the war on his own,' the Highlander assured. 'I think it would have came regardless. Both sides wanted the battle. The death of Julie DePaul just made those few who were willing to talk peace turn against one another.' 

'But he is Scottish himself,' Amanda pointed out. 'Why would he turn against his own?' 

'Just being from the Highlands doesn't mean you automatically have honor,' Duncan sighed. 'For him, it was just about the money. Or maybe it was about bringing on a war. Maybe what DePaul said was true. He was a Scotsman who wanted war, but was afraid of the peoples' reaction if he challenged Cameron straight out. After all, Cam held the sword.' 

'Yeah, the sword,' Nick snorted. 'I thought the man who held it was invincible. So much for legends, huh?' 

'Not necessarily,' MacLeod shrugged. 'He was unstoppable as long as his heart stayed pure. Julie's murder changed Cameron MacAllister. His heart became black and corrupt. All he wanted was revenge. That is why the sword didn't protect him in battle.' 

'Well, obviously The Assassin believes the legend behind the sword or he wouldn't be risking everything to get it back,' Nick put in. 'So that should tell us a few things about him. One, he's definitely a Highlander. Two, he's old enough to know of the legend.' 

'Only three Immortals were present when Julie DePaul died,' Amanda reminded. 'You, MacAllister, and Cochrane. You said yourself that Cochrane was against the wedding. He wasn't waiting outside with you for the arrival of Julie at the wedding. He didn't show up until after she was dead. You didn't feel the presence of another Immortal outside the two who were already there. He left Lochel Castle and the killings started elsewhere. He's old enough to know of and believe the legend of this sword. I know he is your friend, Mac, but is it possible?' 

Duncan lean back in his chair, quietly admitting, 'A few years ago, I would have said no. But Warren did something. . .something that made me see him in a different light. I don't want to think he is capable of it, but he did hate the English with a passion,' he sighed. 'I don't even know where he is. He left Paris, and I lost touch with him.' 

'What did he do that made you see him differently?' Wolfe pressed. 

'He killed his own student,' Duncan admitted, refusing to meet their eyes. 

At the time, he had been horrified by what Warren had done. He had thought he would never understand something like that. Until the night Richie Ryan had died at his hand. 

He now understood what Warren had gone through. And perhaps he even understood that Cochrane had not been in his sound mind the night he had killed his pupil. Just as he had not been sane the night of Richie's death. 

With the help of Shelby Donovan, he had learned to forgive himself. He had even learned to understand and forgive Warren to some degree. But if Cochrane was behind these assassinations after all, he could not forgive that. 

He stood then, suggesting, 'Why don't we wait and see what Joe can find out for us about this Immortal. Until then, I will take this,' he insisted, reaching for the Sword of Virtue. 'Let The Assassin come after me if he wants this back so bad.' 

* * *

**Chapter 18**

Duncan MacLeod held the Sword of Virtue up to the light, admiring the way the seven jewels sparkled. He knew this antique was worth millions to any collector, but to a Highlander it was priceless. And to him it brought back more memories than he cared to acknowledge. 

Cameron had been one of his earliest students. He had often blamed himself for not teaching MacAllister better. Maybe the man would not have been killed if he had. And then there was Warren Cochrane. 

He had turned his back on Warren after the man had killed his own student. But now he better understood that pain. That guilt and regret. He wondered where Warren was now? Did he even contemplate that Cochrane was The Assassin? 

Warren had been against the marriage of MacAllister and Julie DePaul. And he was an Immortal. Was it possible that he had used the guise of a hitman hired by the English to anger the Scots into war? Cameron had been one of the main ones standing for peace. And because Cameron held the Sword of Virtue, many of the clans listened to his word above that of other Chieftains. Could Warren have killed the girl just to incite MacAllister's rage towards the English? 

A knock fell on his door then. He laid the sword across the coffee table and went to answer it. He had left a message with Joe earlier to get back with him, and he hoped it was his friend. 

He swung the door open, his warm greeting faded at the sight of his guest. 'What can I do for you, Shelby?' 

She smiled hesitantly, extending a red rose to him. 'A truce, perhaps?' 

He took it, twirling it with his fingers. A red rose was special between them. It represented their bond. Their depth of feeling. 

She wasn't going to play fair, he realized with an inward groan. She was going to make it very hard for him to stay mad at her. He stepped aside then, letting her enter. 

'Can I take your coat?' he offered. At her nod, he slipped the long garment from her shoulders, her manner of dress surprising him. 

She wore a tight, royal purple dress that clung to her curvy figure, stopping well above the knee and showing a great expanse of leg. The neck was rounded and the sleeves ending at her wrists in a V. Black stockings and high heels added to her sexy allure. She had curled her long blonde hair, and he had to suppress the urge not to finger one of her soft curls. 

'You're dressed up,' he pointed out. 

'I'm having dinner with a friend tonight,' she answered. 

'Anyone I know?' 

'A guy by the name of Duncan MacLeod,' she said with a coy smile. 'You do you know him, don't you?' 

'I might,' he shrugged. 'Do you like this guy?' 

'Very much,' she admitted, taking the rose from his hands and studying it. She traced the fragile petals with a finger. 'But I was a real bitch to a friend of his today. And I apologized to her. Now I'm hoping he will forgive me.' 

'And take you out to dinner?' he added, feeling his anger subside in that instance. This was the Shelby Donovan he remembered, gentle and kind. And just a little shy. 'Well, I know for a fact that he has had a rough day and really doesn't want to go out tonight.' 

She nodded then, disappointment settling like a weight in her stomach. Perhaps Matthew was wrong. It was going to take a little more than 'showing some leg' and an apology to earn his forgiveness. 'I will let him rest then,' she offered, stepping towards the door. 

He cut her path off, backing her up against the wall as he insisted, 'I think he'd rather stay in. He has a friend named Maurice who works at a great little restaurant that would deliver if he called and asked.' 

'Then maybe he should make that call,' she smiled up at him. 

'He will in a minute,' he promised, standing so close their bodies nearly touched. 'But first he wanted to explain what you walked in on this morning.' 

'I already know,' she interrupted. 'Renee is just your friend. You were helping her through a rough time. I was wrong to act like I did this morning. And I am very sorry. I told Renee that, as well.' 

'Did she forgive you?' he asked curiously. 

'I think she did,' she admitted. 'But does Duncan MacLeod forgive me? 

'I couldn't stay angry with you if I tried,' he vowed, reaching for her hand. He gently entwined their fingers, bringing their joined hands to his lips for a kiss. 

'I feel like I'm back in first grade,' she laughed nervously. 'Exchanging letters behind the teacher's back. 'I like you. Do you like me? Circle yes or no'.' 

'I've missed you,' he proclaimed. 'And the answer is yes. I like you.' 

She stepped into his arms, sighing as they encircled her like bands of steel. The steady beat of his heart pounded against her cheek, and she knew in that moment that this was where she belonged. This man was what she had been searching for her entire life. 

Duncan kissed the top of her head, holding her as close as possible. He had forgotten how good this felt. He had forgotten how soft her hair was and how sweet her perfume smelled. But he had not forgotten how much he cared for her. 

'Welcome home, sweetheart,' he whispered the soft caress. 'Welcome home.' 

* * *

**Chapter 19**

'Renee wanted me to thank you for all you did for her,' Shelby said, sipping her glass of red wine. 

'So she went back with McCormick?' Duncan called from the small kitchen area. They had shared a nice, quiet meal and he had insisted that she sit while he put away the leftovers and cleaned up the few dishes. Drying the last plate and putting it in the cabinet, he walked back to her. 

'Yes. She wanted to be there when Matthew questioned Jefferson about Paul Lowe's murder. I think Matthew will get him to talk and maybe give a few leads to The Assassin.' 

Duncan chose to not comment on the other Immortal, instead pouring himself a glass of the wine and refilling hers. 

'Are you trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me,' she teased, as he sat down beside her on the couch. 

'Don't tempt me,' he laughed, kissing her forehead. He slipped an arm around her, pulling her close. 'I really feel for Renee. To have her husband murdered over politics.' 

'It is sad,' she sighed. 'I think she will be okay, though. Matthew will see to it that justice is done and that will help her.' 

'You know, you have told me all about the reasons Paul Lowe was killed and how you and McCormick figured it out,' he stated, resting his cheek against the top of her head. 'But you have yet to tell me how you got involved with the FBI to begin with.' 

Shelby laughed then, 'It is an interesting tale. The time I spent with Cassandra was invaluable to me. She taught me so much. She helped me to understand my psychic power and how to use it. Even how to control it to some degree. After a few months, there was nothing else she could teach me, so I left her. I wasn't sure where to go or what to do then. A part of me just wanted to run straight back here. To you.' 

'Why didn't you?' he huskily asked, touched by her words. 'You didn't even call. I was starting to think you had forgotten me.' 

'Never,' she insisted. 'I didn't call because, if I had heard your voice, I would have come here and let you take care of me. But that wasn't what I needed. I needed to know if I could stand on my own two feet. I wanted to see if I could be independent.' 

'I understand that,' he assured. 

'I thought about you every day, though. I even dreamed about you at night.' 

'A beach?' he asked with raised eyebrows. 'No tan lines?' 

She felt her face flush with embarrassment, admitting, 'I think I projected that dream onto you. It was definitely my doing.' 

'I didn't mind. And I thought about you, too. Every day. So, uh, what happened after you left Cassandra?' 

'I took a bus to Louisiana. It wasn't a conscious decision to go there. I just went to the bus stop, gave them what money I had for a ticket, and asked how far it would get me. New Orleans was it. I got a job as a waitress at a theme restaurant.' 

'What was the theme?' 

She buried her face in the crook of his neck to hide her embarrassment. She laughed as she admitted, 'The waitresses read palms and told fortunes after we served the customers lunch.' 

Duncan roared with laughter at her confession. 'I guess you were well qualified to be a fortuneteller.' 

'No,' she laughed with him. 'Actually, I was very unpopular with everyone, especially the boss. He had this nice, long list of things we were suppose to say. Stuff like 'You will live long and prosper' or 'You will meet a tall, dark, handsome stranger'. Instead, I told the truth. I got fired after I revealed to one customer that her husband was having an affair. So I went back to my slummy little apartment, deeply depressed. I fell asleep while toying with the idea of starting my own psychic hotline. And that was when I had this dream,' she turned serious then. 'I saw two little girls, alone in the woods. I saw them so clearly. Everything. What they were wearing and where they were. The next morning, I turned on the news to hear a report that two little girls had disappeared from their backyard the day before. The FBI had been called in because they thought the girls had been taken by a serial killer. But they hadn't. They had just wandered off while playing. The police were searching everywhere, Duncan, but in the right place.' 

'And you found them,' he stated with a proud smile. 'That was how you met McCormick.' 

'Yes. He was in charge of the case. He didn't believe in my abilities at first, but after I told him where he could find his serial killer, he realized I wasn't a fraud. He asked me to work with him, and I did for quite some time. I swore that each new case would be my last. As soon as I helped him solve it, I would be on my way. But then something else would come up. Another child would go missing or some man's wife would be killed, and I would stay. 'Matthew and I were working a case in Florida when we heard of Congressman Lowe's death. When he told me that he was leaving for Paris, I knew I had to come too. It was time to see you again. And to know if what I thought we had was real or just my imagination.' 

'It's real,' he sighed against her hair. 'I am proud of you, Shelby. This is what you are supposed to be doing. Your gift was meant to help people.' 

'But I can't save them all,' she repeated the chilling prophecy that had once been spoken to her. 'And I am starting to accept that now. There are just too many people who need help everywhere. It gets overwhelming sometimes. And every now and then, I almost wish I were back slinging hash and reading palms.' 

'You do the best you can, and the rest will fall into place,' he insisted. 'Besides, I don't think palm reading was meant to be your professional career.' 

She laughed at his teasing, reaching for his hand. 'Here, let your own personal 'psychic friend' read your palm.' 

'No,' he disagreed, suddenly serious. 

'Duncan, what's wrong?' she asked, sitting up straighter and looking him in the eye. 

He thought about telling her nothing, but what would be the point? She would know he was keeping something from her one way or the other. 'I lead a violent life,' he reminded. 'I don't want you to be scared by what you might see about me.' 

'Nothing about you could scare me,' she insisted. 

'Then maybe I don't want to be scared by what is there,' he admitted. 'A gypsy girl read my palm once, and she left me with a chilling prediction. She said that I would live a long time, love many women, and bury every one of them. She said I would never marry. I would always be alone.' 

'And you believe that?' 

'I would rather believe that we make our own fate,' he answered. 'But so far, she has been right. I've buried many loves.' 

'Like Rose Thornton,' she gently hedged. 

At his nod, she held her hand out to him. He knew what she wanted. She wanted to tell him what she saw in their future. He held his hand out to her then, palm up. 

Shelby traced the lines in his hand, glancing up with awed eyes, 'That is one heck of a lifeline you've got there, Duncan. Your love line looks good, too. And. . .' 

'What?' he asked when her voice trailed off. 

'I think your gypsy was wrong,' she insisted. 'She was judging you by a normal man's lifetime. She had no idea you were Immortal, and that she had to look a little deeper to see what would really be. You will marry some day, Duncan MacLeod. It is a little confusing but. . .I think you will wed only one woman, but you will find her in every life she leads. Her soul is connected to yours for eternity. In every life, you will be with her. And she with you. I see many long, happy years there.' 

Duncan could barely breathe he was so lost in her words. He knew they were true. She was living proof of it. He had found her over a hundred years ago when she was Rose Thornton. And she had found him as Shelby Donovan. And they would find one another again and again. Hers was the soul that was connected to his. 

He took her hand in his then, turning it palm up. He kissed the tender skin as he decreed, 'I see you will meet a man. Tall, dark, mysterious.' 

'Don't forget handsome,' she supplied. 

'Oh, yes, definitely handsome,' he teased. 'And he will do everything in his power to make you happy, Shelby.' 

'I saw a girl in your future, too,' she confided. 'Petite. Blonde. Fair. Crazy about you.' 

He cupped her face then, lowering his mouth to hers for a tender kiss. She sighed against the feel of his mouth, returning the kiss. Her hands slid up his broad chest, to his shoulders, and then delved into his soft hair. His tongue parted her lips, deepening the kiss. 

Shelby wasn't sure how long they kissed. It could have been an eternity and she would not have taken note she was so lost in the embrace. Bells were ringing in her ears and she belatedly realized it was the phone. 

Duncan ripped his mouth from hers with a muttered curse. He reached past her, snatching up the phone and barking, 'This had better be good. . .Hey, Joe. Sorry about that. Did you get my message?' he asked, pausing as the other man spoke to him. 'You're kidding me? How long? All right, thanks.' 

He hung the phone up, sighing heavily. She licked her tingling lips, sensing that he was troubled. 'It's about The Assassin, isn't it? You asked Joe to help you find him.' 

He smiled at her insight. 'You know he is an Immortal then?' 

'McCormick told me,' she revealed. 'One of the reasons he wanted me working the case with him was because I knew what he was. I think he secretly had hopes that I could help him find The Assassin.' 

'I want you to stay out of this,' he insisted, concern in his face. 'This man is a killer, sweetheart. He wouldn't hesitate to hurt you. And I wouldn't forgive myself if he did.' 

'You think you know who he is, don't you?' she realized. 

He nodded and gave her a brief summary of the past, explaining to her about MacAllister and his run-in with The Assassin. 

'I asked Joe to see what he could do about tracking down the man,' he finished. 'I know he is staying in Paris because there is something here he wants, and he won't leave without it.' 

'Has Joe found him?' she asked in worry. 

'Possibly. You see, Cameron suspected Warren Cochrane, but I convinced him that my friend couldn't possible be a killer.' 

'And now you have doubts,' she stated the obvious. 

'Joe couldn't find anything on The Assassin, but he did want to warn me that Warren Cochrane was back in Paris. He's been here for a little over a week.' 

'Then he would have gotten in the city around the same time that Paul and Renee Lowe did,' she reasoned aloud. 'Oh, Duncan, do you really think your friend could be a killer?' 

'Warren killed his student a few years ago,' he confided. 'And I saw a different side to him then. I had never thought him capable of doing something like that. But I had never thought myself capable of it, either.' 

'Richie's death wasn't your fault,' she insisted. 

'I know,' he assured, grasping both of her hands in his own. 'It was different for Warren, though. He and his student had an argument that got out of hand, and he killed him. He had some sort of breakdown afterwards. The guilt almost destroyed him. He's been drifting ever since.' 

'That doesn't really sound like a man who is a cold-blooded killer,' she pointed out. 'You are going to see him, aren't you?' 

'Joe told me where he was staying. I think I have to see him, Shelby. I'll go first thing tomorrow morning. I have to know if he is The Assassin.' 

* * *

**Chapter 20**

Warren Cochrane opened the door on the fourth knock, sword in hand. He could not contain the stunned expression as he acknowledged, 'Duncan.' 

'Hello, Warren. You look well,' he stated, nearly choking on the last word. Warren looked anything but well. His skin was pale and shallow, his eyes bloodshot. He looked a mess from his rumpled clothes to his messy hair to the beard he hadn't shaved in weeks. He looked almost as terrible as the run-down boarding house he was staying in. 

Duncan stepped into the room at his friend's silent invitation. The room was in complete disarray. The floor filthy. The paint pealing from the walls. He had seen pigsties in better condition than this. 

Or maybe it was just a flawless cover. The authorities would never look for a highly paid hitman in a slum like this. 

Cochrane walked across the room to a dresser. A half-empty bottle of whisky sat on it and he poured himself a glass, asking, 'Can I offer you some breakfast?' 

'No. And I'd say you have had plenty of that yourself,' he pointed out. 

Warren grimaced at the foul taste of the cheap liquor, stating, 'I know you are not here because you've missed my charming wit. What do you want, MacLeod?' 

'The Assassin is in Paris,' he stated, searching for some reaction from Cochrane, but finding none. 

'And what? You're worried about me?' he asked, rubbing his throbbing temples. 

'No. I'm worried about what you might be doing,' he let the accusation hang between them. 

Warren turned slowly to face him, some unnamed emotion burning in his eyes. 'You think I am The Assassin? Funny, you were the one who defended me against that accusation once, and now you are the one making it,' he laughed bitterly. 'So my old friend doesn't even know me anymore? I guess that is no surprise. I haven't known myself since . . . since Andrew.' 

Duncan felt the pain in his friend's words, and he understood that. He knew that feeling all too well. 

'I live with what I did,' Warren spoke softly. 'And I hate myself enough for it. I don't need your added accusations. I think you know the way out.' 

MacLeod moved toward the door, pausing long enough to state, 'I am going to stop this man, Warren. And I really do hope it isn't you when I do.' 

The Scotsman sighed, taking a long sip of his drink before stating simply, 'Good-bye, Mac.' 

He stepped from the room then, pulling the door shut behind him. Once in the hall he produced his cell phone and quickly dialed the number of a local news station. 'Yes,' he began when the operator picked up, 'I have a story I think you might be interested in airing. . .' 

* * *

**Chapter 21**

'It is getting cold outside,' Shelby Donovan stated as she stepped through the door of MacLeod's barge, several grocery bags in hand. 

Duncan looked up from cleaning his katana. He lay his weapon down beside the Sword of Virtue, standing from the couch and moving to her. He took the bags from her hands, giving her a soft kiss of greeting. 

'You are cold,' he laughed, kissing her chilled lips again. 'You will get use to the weather here. Eventually.' 

'I don't know,' she disagreed. 'I grew up in sunny California, remember?' 

'Then it will just be my duty to keep you warm,' he teased, moving to the kitchen and setting the bags on the counter. 'Thanks for picking this up for me.' 

'I was glad you called,' she admitted, following him into the kitchen. 'Especially after you practically kicked me out of here last night after you heard from Joe.' 

'I want you to be safe,' he reminded. 'And being close to me right now probably isn't the safest place for anyone.' 

'I will take the risk,' she decided. 'You're worth it.' 

Her sincere proclamation touched him. He reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, asking, 'How was your day?' 

'It was good. I went down to police headquarters and worked a little on the mountain of paperwork Matthew left behind for me. Speaking of which, he called this morning. The FBI has found a substantial amount of evidence against Cole Jefferson for placing a hit on Congressman Lowe. Hopefully, he is singing his head off as we speak. Matthew is hoping he will give them some insight on how to track down The Assassin.' 

'He doesn't have any clue that the man is still in Paris?' 

'No. And I didn't tell him otherwise.' 

'Thank you,' he stated, resting his hands on her waist and pulling her closer. 'I know it isn't easy for you to keep that from him, but I do appreciate it.' 

She slid her arms around him, offering what emotional support she could before asking, 'What happened with your friend this morning?' 

He sighed heavily, admitting, 'I don't know. I pray Warren isn't the man I am hunting. He seemed so lost. It could have been an act, I suppose. But I will have my answer soon enough.' 

'What do you mean?' 

'It's time for the news,' he announced, taking her hand and leading her to the couch. He switched the TV on and waited patiently for his plan to present itself. 'Here we go,' he stated nearly fifteen minutes into the program, turning the volume up. 

'Meanwhile in the world of art and antiques,' the lovely newscaster spoke, 'we received a report today of a startling find. The Sword of Virtue, a legendary Scottish claymore believed to have been lost for centuries, is reported to have been discovered by local antique dealer Duncan MacLeod. In an interview this morning, Mr. MacLeod would neither confirm nor deny this report. The Sword of Virtue was once considered to be a myth--' 

'What have you done?' she turned to him in disbelief. 

'He wants his sword back,' Duncan stated, turning the volume down. 'Now he knows I have it. He'll leave Nick and Amanda alone--' 

'And come for you,' she butted in, visibly worried. 

'You know what I am, Shelby,' he quietly reminded. 'I can't stop being Immortal.' 

'I know,' she sighed in defeat. She could no sooner ask him to not be who he was than he could ask that of her. They each had their crosses to bear. He would always be Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. He would always have his honor and sense of right and wrong. He would never run from that or from another Immortal. It was something she would have to face and accept if she wanted to be a part of his life. And she did want to be in his life. 

Her gaze settled on the claymore laid across his coffee table. 'So this is what he is willing to kill or die for,' she stated, reaching for the sword. She gasped the moment she touched the hilt, jerking her hand back as if it burned her. 

'Are you okay?' he asked in concern, catching her shaky hand in his own. He had considered that her touching the weapon might give her some insight into The Assassin, but he had not requested it of her. The last thing he wanted was to cause her any unease. 

'No wonder he wants it back,' she whispered hoarsely. 'He puts a lot of stock in that weapon, doesn't he?' 

'Yes. He believes it gives him some sort of strength,' Duncan explained. 

She tugged her hand from his and reached for the sword again. She was more prepared for her reaction to it this time. A thousand images filled her mind, rushing through so fast she could make no sense of them. She felt the emotions of everyone who had ever touched this weapon. Including The Assassin. She saw the sword being raised and swung at--Duncan! 

She jerked her hand back them, shuddering as a cold chill gripped her. Duncan pulled her into his arms then for a consoling embrace. 'What did you see?' he gently hedged. 

'I saw you fighting with him. I didn't see this face, but a word kept running over and over in my mind,' she recalled. 'Friend. The Assassin is your friend, Mac.' 

The revelation struck him hard, and he groaned, 'It's Warren.' 

'I don't know that. I do know that he is evil. He is filled with rage and anger and hate,' she insisted, holding him almost desperately close. 'I saw death, too. Who's, I don't know--' 

'Shhhh,' he cut her off, pulling back enough to see her face. He hated the pain and fear he saw there. He didn't want to hurt her. She was the last person on this earth he wanted to cause pain to. He knew the logical thing would be to let her go. To distance himself from her so that she would be safe. She would be away from the violence and death that was his Immortal life. But he couldn't. For the life of him, he couldn't let her go. 

She kissed him then. His mind screamed to push her away. To give her a shot at a normal life. A future that wouldn't be filled with Immortals and death. But his heart refused. Even as his mind told him to stop, his arms encircled her, pulling her closer. He kissed her until they were both breathless with desire. 

'Tell me to stop,' he pleaded, resting his forehead against hers as he struggled to take control of his desire. 'Tell me to stop, and then leave me. Leave me now for your own good.' 

'No,' her word was muffled as she kissed his exposed neck. 

'Dammit, Shelby,' he groaned. 'I don't think you understand. If you kiss me again, then I am going to take you to my bed and make love to you all night long. And if that happens, then you are mine. I will never let you go again.' 

'Then make me yours,' she invited, sealing both their fates with a kiss. 

He groaned in surrender, scooping her into his arms and taking her to his bed. He laid her across the soft mattress and moved to cover her body with his own, kissing a slow path from her lips to her ear. Nuzzling her earlobe, he whispered, 'You are so beautiful, sweetheart.' 

'I love you, Duncan,' she confessed. 'I know it sounds crazy, but I think I have loved you my entire life. Even before I met you.' 

'It's not crazy,' he assured, his eyes shining with the depth of feeling he had for her. 'I've known for months that we were destined for this, sweetheart. I love you, too.' 

He kissed her then, his mouth claiming hers with gentle passion. He felt her hands unbuttoning his shirt, slipping inside to caress his solid torso. The torment was sweet, but he could not take much of it if he wanted to keep control and love her slowly. 

His hands shook ever so slightly as he undressed her, caressing her first with his eyes, then his hands, and then his mouth. He left no inch of her untouched, fully arousing her before he made her his own. 

He parted her legs, entering her slowly. He captured her hand, bringing it to rest over his heart as he took her body, wanting her to feel his emotion. He wanted her to know the depth of feelings that lay within him. 

'Duncan,' she moaned his name in a mixture of pleasure and awe. She could feel his love, and it was all she could do to control the emotions that welled inside her chest for him. 

There were no words for this feeling, so instead she tried to show him with her body. She kissed and caressed him, stroking the taunt muscles of his back and buttocks. She moved with him, heightening both their pleasures. 

She lost all sense of time and logic as they made love, claiming each other. As their bodies became one, their souls connected on a deeper, higher level. Their souls forged one, proclaiming that they would be connected forever. In every life, throughout eternity, this man was her destiny. 

* * *

**Chapter 22**

Duncan lay sated and quiet in his bed, holding his love as closely as possible. There had been no words between them since making love. None had seemed needed. There was a connection between them that could not be explained or spoken in words. 

'I feel it, too,' she whispered, resting her hand over his heart. 

He chuckled, cheerfully pointing out, 'At least you will never have to wonder what I am thinking. I mean, consider the irony. I will be the one always having to ask what you are thinking or feeling. Unless you just want to put me out of my misery and tell me.' 

Shelby laughed at his teasing, shyly admitting, 'I was wondering if it will be this wonderful every time we make love?' 

'No, it won't,' he answered, pausing before finishing. 'It will get better. The more we learn each other, the more pleasure we will find.' 

'I don't know if my heart can take it,' she admitted. 'But I guess I will learn in time.' 

Time. The word echoed thought his mind, mocking him. They would never have enough time. Even if she lived to be a hundred and he kept his head, it still wouldn't be enough time for him. He would lose her eventually. Or she would lose him. He would meet a better Immortal. Or he'd have an off day and lose his head. Either way, they would be ripped apart at some point. 

But he couldn't think about that. If he dwelled on all the ways he could lose her, he would go mad. He didn't know what was ahead for them. Tomorrow. A year from now. Ten. All he knew was that they had this night. This perfect moment and he would not let it be darkened with his thoughts. 

Propping up on his elbow, he stared down into her blue eyes. He could see the troubled expression there and he knew she must have been picking up on his negative thoughts. 

'The Assassin will come for you, won't he?' she asked in worry. 

'Probably,' he admitted, taking her hand and kissing it. 'But not tonight. Tonight is ours.' 

'And tomorrow?' 

'Let's just concentrate on tonight right now,' he stated, a wicked grin dancing across his face as he pushed the sheet from her naked body. 'I promised you _all_ night, didn't I?' 

* * *

**Chapter 23**

'Duncan, do you want your eggs fried or scrambled?' Shelby called, moving to the bathroom door so he could hear her over the running water of the shower. 

'Scrambled,' he called back. 'It's better for your health.' 

'Like you really have to worry about cholesterol,' she muttered, walking back to the kitchen. 

A knocked sounded on the door, and she hesitated about answering it. She knew she looked a mess. She hadn't showered yet, her hair was tangled and she wore Mac's shirt from last night. But it could be important. 

She moved to the door and was reaching for the handle when MacLeod burst from the bathroom, soaking wet. He still had soap on his body and was pulling his jeans on as he exited. 

'Get away from that door,' he ordered, retrieving his sword. 

'An Immortal?' she asked. 

'He's gone now,' Duncan stated even before he opened the door. He cautiously stepped onto the deck of his barge, his eyes missing nothing as they scanned his surroundings. At the top of the plank lay a red kerchief. Even from this distance, he knew what it was. The calling card of The Assassin. 

He picked it up, fingering the red silk and the embroidered 'A'. A note fell from it, and he scooped it up and read the message. He turned and stepped back into the barge then, meeting Shelby's troubled eyes. 

'It is him, isn't it?' she asked. 

'Yes,' he answered honestly, holding up the note. 'He wants to meet me this morning. He wants me to bring him the sword.' 

'Duncan,' she whispered in worry, stepping into his arms. She could smell the clean scent of the soap that still clung to his body. She could feel his heartbeat against her cheek. It was hard to believe that he might be gone in a few hours. 

He held her close, kissing the top of her hair as he whispered, 'Don't ask me not to do this.' 

'Then don't ask me not to worry about you,' she bargained. 

'Deal,' he agreed. 'Now, I want you to get dressed. I am going to take you to visit with some friends of mine, Nick and Amanda. You'll be safe there.' 

'You just be safe,' she pleaded. 

He took her hand, kissing it and placing it on his chest as he decreed, 'You are my heart.' 

'And you are my soul,' she spoke back. 

He kissed her then, slow and gentle. Pulling back, he stared down into her lovely face, and prayed he would live to see it again. 

* * *

**Chapter 24**

Duncan stepped into the maze of a garden. He had followed the directions The Assassin had left for him on the note and they had brought him to an impressive chateau on the outskirts of Paris. The note had said for him to come to the gardens. 

He felt the presence of the other Immortal, stopping in his tracks. He looked around, but saw no one. The other man was hiding somewhere in the huge hedges. 

'You can come out now, Warren,' he called, but received no answer. 

A wood bench sat a few feet from him and he walked to it. He reached into his coat and withdrew the Sword of Virtue, driving it into the wood. 

'This is what you wanted, isn't it? Now come and get it,' he invited, turning his back and walking off. 

A shadow stepped from the bushes then, a hand reaching out and capturing the weapon and pulling it from the bench. The hand caressed the jeweled hilt and he released a contented sigh. Finally, his weapon was back where it belonged. 

He turned to eye the back of MacLeod's body. How easy it would be to launch himself forward and take his head. But he didn't really want to kill this man, his friend. 

Instead, he called out, 'Walk away, Duncan.' 

MacLeod whirled around in surprise, shock registering on his face as he whispered, 'You?' 

* * *

**Chapter 25**

Amanda sat at a table with Nick Wolfe, watching as Shelby paced the floor of her establishment. MacLeod had dropped her off several hours ago. He had spoken in confidence to Amanda, saying only that he was going after The Assassin and wanted Shelby kept safe, just in case he didn't return. 

She stood then, walking to the other girl and taking her wringing hands. 'Mac will be okay. I just know it.' 

'He should be there by now,' Shelby sighed. 

'You really care about him, don't you?' Amanda stated with a smile. She liked this girl and could see why Duncan cared for her as much as he did. 

'I love him,' she confided. 'I don't know what I would do if anything. . .I mean, how would you feel if you lost Nick? I know you love him--' 

Amanda hushed her with a look, glancing back to ensure that Wolfe had not overheard. 

Realization dawned on Shelby, and she insisted, 'You should just tell him, you know. I know he feels the same.' 

Amanda's comment was cut off as the door opened and Joe Dawson strolled through. He looked worried, but he still smiled in genuine pleasure as he decreed, 'Shelby, it's so good to see you.' 

'Hi, Joe,' she greeted, kissing him on the cheek. 

'Did you find anything out about The Assassin?' Nick butted in. 

'Nothing. He is as elusive as they come.' 

'Damn,' Wolfe sighed. He had not been here when MacLeod had brought Shelby by or he would have taken this fight himself. He had lived with so many regrets since the day he had first encountered the other Immortal. If only he had learned to fight, he might have taken the man. If only he had arrived sooner. If only. . . 

But he supposed he could rectify those mistakes. He would learn to fight now. He would learn The Game to ensure that he could protect innocent mortal lives from his own kind in the future. 

'I should be the one fighting him,' Wolfe sighed. 

'He challenged Mac,' Amanda reminded. 'You can't interfere now.' 

'To hell with your stupid rules! It was my friends he killed!' 

'He killed Mac's friend, too,' Shelby reasoned. 

'I didn't know MacLeod knew Paul Lowe,' Dawson stated in surprise. 'His wife Renee, yes, but when did he meet the Congressman?' 

'No, he didn't know Lowe personally,' Shelby corrected. 'His other friend. Cameron MacAllister. The Assassin killed him before the war in Scotland.' 

A stunned expression flashed across Joe's face. 'Shelby,' he hesitantly revealed. 'Cameron MacAllister isn't dead. He lives on the outskirts of Paris.' 

* * *

**Chapter 26**

Duncan shook his head in disbelief, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him. It couldn't be. . .it simply couldn't. . . 

The hair was shorter. The beard was gone. The clothes were modern, but it was. It was his former student and one time friend. 

'Cameron,' he breathed in shock. 

'Been a long time, MacLeod,' MacAllister nodded. 'Walk away. I don't want your head. I still consider you my friend. All I want is my sword.' 

'Did you kill Paul Lowe?' he demanded. 

'Yes,' he stated without hesitation. 'I made a nice profit off that one. But sadly, I lost my beloved Sword in the process.' 

'You want that sword, then you will have to kill me for it,' he furiously decreed. 

'I checked you out,' he admitted. 'You have a nice life here in Paris. Is it worth ending over some man who meant nothing to you? Go back to your home. And your woman. The pretty blonde one. Shelby, isn't it?' 

Rage flowed through him then, and he hissed, 'What have you done?' 

'Nothing. . .yet. After I realized that Wolfe's Immortal lover didn't know about the sword, I assumed he might not have it. It occurred to me that our good friend McCormick might have kept it. So I thought: kill his little friend, and he will come after me, with my sword.' 

'You bastard,' Duncan stated when he realized what this man was confessing to him. 

'Relax. I didn't hurt her because she was yours. I followed her to the market the other day. I was waiting for the perfect opportunity. But you can imagine my surprise when she went to you. I decided to let her live as a gift to my first teacher,' he stated. 'It is kind of ironic, isn't it, Mac? You always worried that your mortal women would die because of who and what you are. But this one was saved because of who you are. And then I heard on the news that you had my sword.' 

'That piece of steel isn't worth anyone's life.' 

'It is worth a thousand lives!' he shouted back. 'This is the Sword of Virtue. It _is_ Scotland. And I would do anything for Scotland.' 

'You killed Julie,' Duncan stated in disbelief. 'You killed the woman who loved you. The woman you claimed to have loved yourself!' 

'She was English!' Cameron screamed back at him. 'She was no better than the monsters that butchered my family. I buried my mother's raped and mutilated body. My father was tortured to death and then quartered! I picked the pieces of him up and laid them to rest beside my mother. And I vowed revenge. I swore to kill every Englishman that crossed my path. And then I found the Sword, and I knew it was fate.' 

'No, it was luck!' he disagreed. 'Some fool had to find it eventually.' 

'But how poetic that an Immortal was the one? A man who couldn't die held the Sword that, according to legend, made him all the more powerful. And I used it to rally Scotland. I wanted that war and I did all I could to start it.' 

'You invented 'The Assassin',' Duncan accused. 'You even killed your own people just to frame the English for it!' 

'No,' he disagreed. 'The English had their 'Assassin'. He was real. They hired him to kill me. _Me!_ They wanted me dead because they feared me. They knew I held the Sword of Virtue and they feared the Scots who followed my lead. So they hired 'The Assassin' and he came for me. But a mere skinny mortal had no power against the Sword of Virtue. I ran him through. And then it occurred to me: why let the English know their friend was dead? Why not bury him in a shallow grave and take his place? Why not use their 'Assassin' against them. I pretended to want peace, but I just used it as a cover to do to them what they were plotting to do to us!' 

'You made me think you were tracking him after Julie's death, but you were just using that as a pretense to kill in his name, weren't you?' he accused, his anger rising. 

'It was a beautiful plan,' he laughed. 'Except that fool Bonnie Prince Charlie led us to destruction instead of victory. Come now, MacLeod! You hated them as much as I did. You wanted that war, too!' 

'Julie was innocent,' he stated. 

'She was exactly what I needed. That girl was a fool. All it took was a few sweet words and she was willing to lift her skirts for me. She liked it, though. I gave her some long, hot nights before she died.' 

'You seduced her on purpose,' Duncan realized. 'You meant for her father to know you had slept with her. You knew it would enrage him to the point of calling for war. You brought her to the Highlands, you used her, and then you killed her.' 

'It wasn't that hard. My warriors saw me coming down the corridor, they dropped their guard, and I killed them to make it look believable. Then I came to her. She was smiling at me, right up to the point where I broke her skinny, English neck with my bare hands. I used the story of another Immortal. It was the only way I could disappear from the Clan and go to France without causing too much suspicion. Everyone thought I was dead, including you. But I have to say, accusing your friend Cochrane was a spur of the moment decision. It played out well, though. I looked the grieving bridegroom.' 

'How could I have been so wrong about you?' Duncan asked in disbelief. 

'You were not wrong about everything,' he stated. 'We were friends and I did admire you greatly. I still do. You taught me what I was. For that, I offer you your life. And that of your mortal lover. Go back to her and be happy for whatever time she has. Or stay and fight me. Once I kill you, then I will go back and kill her. Just for spite. You cannot beat me, MacLeod,' he decreed, holding up the weapon. 'I hold the Sword. No man can defeat me. The legend says so.' 

'Nay. The legend says you will be safe as long as your heart stays pure. Yours is not. It never was,' Duncan decreed, withdrawing his katana. He quickly shed his coat and tossed it aside. 

'I warned you,' MacAllister swore, charging him. 

He dodged the assault, raising his blade to defend himself. MacAllister's claymore was a huge, bulky weapon and he had the power to compliment it. He swung the sword with lethal intent, his thrusts nearly knocking the katana from Duncan's hands more than once. But MacAllister was more than just brute strength. He had learned well at the hand of his teacher. 

Duncan wasn't sure how long they danced their Immortal dance of battle, but he felt himself losing ground. He was being forced backwards. 

Cameron charged him then and he narrowly caught the lethal blow with the strength of his blade. They both lost their footing and fell into the thick hedges. MacLeod used his strength to throw the other man off him. 

MacAllister rolled free and disappeared into the thick bushes. Duncan stood to his feet, looking around for the other man. He didn't know the gardens like Cameron did, and he wouldn't know where the attack would come from. He could still feel the other Immortal nearby though. 

His senses were keen and he stood on edge for the attack. He heard the hedges behind him rustle, and he whirled around to see MacAllister hurling himself through the shrubbery, his weapon aimed at Duncan's head. 

The Highlander raised his weapon, its blade catching the Sword Of Virtue in mid-strike. An eerie clang filled the air as the Sword's blade broke at its jeweled hilt, the steel falling uselessly at MacAllister's feet. 

Both men stood stunned for a moment. Cameron could not take his eyes off the broken sword, his mind spinning in denial. He raised disbelieving eyes to MacLeod as the legend ran through his mind like a broken record: 'If the warrior lets himself be corrupted, then the sword would break when a man with a purer heart took him to battle.' 

'Good-bye, Cameron,' Duncan whispered a second before he swung his sword, claiming the life of the other man. 

He sank to his knees then, gripping the hilt of his faithful katana, and awaited The Quickening. 

* * *

**Chapter 27**

Joe Dawson hung up the phone, turning back to his friends as he admitted, 'I had one of our guys search the archives and make some cross-references with a few police files. MacAllister was coincidentally in every city were The Assassin has struck.' 

'And your people never made the connection before?' a disbelieving Wolfe asked. 

'Hey, we aren't perfect, all right,' Dawson snapped. 'Besides, we had no clue that The Assassin was an Immortal. It was hardly like MacLeod pulled his Watcher aside two hundred years ago and confided that bit of information. We knew that MacAllister had left his Clan, but we never knew the reason why. Or that MacLeod thought he was dead.' 

'And Mac went there without a clue,' Shelby sighed, pushing a hand through her hair. 

Amanda and Wolfe stiffened then, both looking to the door as Amanda decreed, 'Someone's here.' 

The glass door swung open and everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief as Duncan MacLeod strolled through. Shelby stood first, racing across the room and throwing herself into his arms. 

He held her close, whispering in her ear, 'It's okay, sweetheart. I'm okay.' 

She reluctantly pulled away from him to allow Dawson room to clamp his friend the back, 'Glad to see you still have your head, buddy.' 

'Thanks,' he assured. He reached into his coat and retrieved the hilt of the Sword of Virtue, laying it on the table between Nick and Amanda. 'It's over. The Assassin is dead.' 

'Joe did a little research,' Amanda began, 'was he your friend MacAllister?' 

'Yes,' he nodded. 'It was Cameron. But he won't be hurting anyone ever again.' 

'Speaking of his victims,' Nick spoke up, sensing that MacLeod really didn't want to discuss this just yet, 'I have to go to the hospital. Myers is being released this afternoon.' 

'I'll go with you,' Amanda volunteered. She gave Mac a quick kiss on the cheek, decreeing, 'I'm glad you're okay, too. Lock up for me on your way out.' 

'Sure,' he assured. 

'You know what,' Dawson suddenly stated, catching the lingering looks Shelby was giving MacLeod, 'I need to go, too. I have some new information we need to get processed. Uh, maybe later you can fill in the gaps for me?' 

MacLeod nodded his agreement, watching as his three friends left the establishment. He sat down in the chair with a bone weary sigh, catching Shelby by the waist and pulling her into his lap. 

She slid an arm around his shoulders and tucked his head underneath her chin, stating, 'I am sorry for you. I know it wasn't easy killing your friend.' 

'And student,' he added. 'Cameron was my student. Maybe I have more in common with Warren Cochrane than I thought. Ironic, I suppose. The man I defended was guilty, and the one I accused was innocent. 

'Duncan, you're Immortal, not infallible,' she insisted. 'I don't care how long you live, you still make mistakes.' 

'I think you make more of them the longer you live,' he admitted. 'Or maybe they just get bigger with each century. I keep thinking about Warren. I wish there was something I could do or say that might help him. He seemed so lost the other day.' 

'Sometimes the hardest part is just feeling alone,' Shelby stated. 'Maybe you should let him know that he isn't. That he does still have a friend in you.' 

'How did you get so smart?' he smiled. 

'Just my personal experience. You say you want to help your friend, and I suppose we both could. I could have a séance and contact Andrew Donnelly on the other side,' she stated, only half-joking. 'Or you could just let him know that he is not alone. You can let him know that you forgive his mistakes. I think that is what he wants the most. A little forgiveness.' 

He nodded, 'It was what I wanted the most after Richie died. And I could use a little now. I don't know where I failed Cameron.' 

'You didn't,' she insisted. 'He chose his own path. Only he could have changed that. You try to take responsibility for everyone, but you can't. You only control what you do, and the choices you make. The life you live. Who you love. Who you forgive. . .' 

She left her words trail off meaningfully and he smiled, 'I'll go see Warren. I think it will make us both feel better.' 

* * *

**Chapter 28**

'Honey, I'm home,' Duncan called playfully as he stepped through the door of his barge. 

'That has a nice ring, doesn't it?' Shelby laughed back. 

He sniffed the delicious aroma in the air, asking as he walked to where she sit on the couch, 'What smells so good?' 

'A secret recipe,' she teased. 'I picked it up during my waitressing days in New Orleans.' 

'You stole their recipes after they fired you?' he asked in mock disbelief. 'In that case, you don't get your gift.' 

'I didn't steal it. . .exactly. The cook just forgot and left his recipes on the counter one day.' 

He chuckled, bringing his hand out from behind his back to reveal a long stem red rose. She accepted it with a tender smile, scooting over on the couch to make room for him. 

'How did your visit with Warren go?' 

'Good,' he admitted. 'I think we made some real progress. I told him all about MacAllister and The Assassin.' 

'Speaking of which, I called Matthew a little while ago. I explained everything to him. He was relieved to know that MacAllister won't be killing anymore. He also told me that he got a full confession from Jefferson. So it looks like Renee will get her justice on all sides.' 

'Good,' he assured, sensing there was something she was not saying. 'Is that all you two talked about?' 

'No,' she admitted, intently studying the rose. 'McCormick says he could use my help on another case.' 

'I see,' he sighed. 'When do you leave?' 

'I don't,' she nervously admitted. 'I gave him my resignation from the Bureau instead.' 

'You're kidding me?' he stated in surprise. 'Honey, I don't want you to make a decision you might regret--' 

She cut him off my placing a hand to his lips, insisting, 'I will never regret this. Besides, the Paris police said they could use my help, and Matthew is putting in a good word for me.' 

'Remind me to send him a thank you note,' he joked, his attention falling on a folded paper on the coffee table. It was turned to the classifieds and she had circled several items in red ink. 'Are you looking for a place to stay?' 

'I can't live in my hotel forever,' Shelby reminded. 'Besides, I think I found a good deal. There is an apartment for rent at a great price--' 

'I have a better offer. And you can't beat the price,' he interjected. 'Move in with me. No rent. No pesky landlords. Of course, we'll have to share the bathroom. And the bed.' 

'Duncan,' she began with a hint of uncertainty. 'I don't want you to feel like I am rushing you into something.' 

'I don't,' he insisted. 'Besides, I want you here. And this place is big enough for us both. I once lived here with Richie and Tessa. . .' 

He broke his words off then, and he uncomfortably cleared his throat. 

'Don't do that,' she insisted. 'I know there have been other loves in your life, Mac. You don't have to protect me from that.' 

He smiled, touched by her depth of understanding with him. 'You know, there was a tradition amongst my people many years ago. When a man loves a woman, he pledges himself to her, and she to him. Then he takes her to his bed, and she becomes his wife.' 

'That's beautiful,' she praised. 

'Then stay with me or take me with you. Just become my wife,' he made the tender request. 'Because I love you, and I will pledge myself to you for as long as time will give us.' 

'And I to you, for as long as time will give us,' Shelby spoke the pledge, tears of joy filling her eyes. 

'My vow to you was an honest one,' he insisted. 'And I will honor it for the rest of our time. In my heart, you've become my wife this night.' 

Shelby cupped his face as he lowered his lips to seal their vow with a kiss. Her heart swelled with happiness. It didn't matter how long time gave them, in their hearts, their love was eternal. 

* * *

© 02/2001   
Please send comments to the author! 

Graphics by Daire 

* * *  
  
---|---


End file.
